Because I Love You
by Angelic Guardian
Summary: His love for her is an obsession, driving him into a world of darkness. Cartman/Wendy/Stan love triangle, Kyle/Bebe budding romance, and Kenny...the perverted comic relief character. Based on The Phantom of the Opera.
1. Overture

**Author's Note: **Okay, a few things you need to know before you start reading this. First of all, although this entire story is based on the plot of _The Phantom of the Opera_ (I know, I'm so original :P), I promise you don't need to know its storyline in order to understand this story. It's probably better if you don't know it actually, because I won't be following the exact storyline. However, if you are familiar with it, I think it should be fairly obvious who the main characters are:

Erik (aka The Phantom) – Cartman  
Christine – Wendy  
Raoul – Stan

Second of all, this story contains no slash whatsoever. Sorry about that. And last of all, this first chapter is written in Cartman's POV. It's a bit angsty, I think... I dunno, I'll let you be the judge.

**Disclaimer:** South Park © Trey Parker and Matt Stone. The Phantom of the Opera novel © Gaston Leroux. The Phantom of the Opera musical © Andrew Lloyd Webber.

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter One: Overture  
_

* * *

I wouldn't exactly call my life ideal or anything. In fact, it's far from it. Like, so fucking far from it that it's almost pathetic.

All right, so here's the thing. I grew up in this crappy little mountain town called South Park. Ever heard of it? I wouldn't be surprised if you hadn't. It's not like this place is anything special. I mean, sure, I could tell you stories about alien abductions, terrorist threats, celebrity visits, even a talking towel... but, believe me, you aren't missing much. This place sucks ass. I'm seriously.

Anyway, when I was a kid, I made a promise to myself that, as soon as I got the chance, I'd get the fuck out of here. I'd move so far away that, eventually, I would forget about every single memory I'd ever had of this town.

Yeah. Sounds pretty easy, right? Pssh, I wish.

That opportunity never came for me. After I graduated high school, I swear to God, I really _was_ planning on leaving this town and going to a college somewhere up north... or, you know, somewhere that _isn't_ crawling with a bunch of retarded, white-trash hicks.

So why didn't I do that? Well, I was kinda lazy during high school... Okay, I guess that's an understatement. It's more like I just didn't give a flying fuck about school. At all. I never cared about my grades or gay stuff like that. I'm not a fucking genius like my loser Jew friend, Kyle Broflovski, who was our class valedictorian. God, he's such a fag...

But I digress.

As for me, I managed to skate by with a solid C+ average, which I only got by cheating off of people and bribing a bunch of faggy kids to do my homework for me, mostly this pussy kid named Butters Stotch, who had, by the way, pretty much been my personal bitch since we were in fourth grade.

Point is, with my grades, I didn't get accepted into any prestigious school up north, or any other school for that matter. So, for the next four years, I was forced to tough it out at the local state college up in Denver. It wasn't _that_ bad, I guess, except for the fact that I fucking hated everyone there. It's not like I even knew anybody to begin with. All of my lame ass smart friends got scholarships, so we all ended up going to different colleges. I'm not exactly the friendliest person in the world, either, so I pretty much kept to myself the entire time I was at college. I went to classes in the mornings, worked at this old, crappy diner at nights, and that was basically my life for those four years.

After I graduated from there, I swore on my dead whore-of-a-mother's life that I was gonna get out of this God-awful town once and for all. There was just one problem: I was fucking broke. I was probably just as broke as my dirt poor friend, Kenny McCormick, who could hardly afford a grain of rice, let alone any real food. To this day, I still wonder how his parents were always able to keep their cupboards stocked with beer and vodka.

So anyway, now I'm 23 years old, a year out of college, and I'm currently living in a shitty little apartment right here in South Park with absolutely no cash, and it totally fucking blows. I still work five nights a week at that stupid diner, but all the money I earn from that job goes toward food and rent, and that's it.

I don't know, sometimes I feel like I'm never gonna get out of this craphole. Like, I'm just working and barely getting by on my minimum wage salary – which makes me feel like a fucking illegal immigrant, let me tell you. I mean, fuck, man, I'm not a goddamn minority, but those assholes down at the diner sure as hell treat me like one – and I'm gonna keep doing this for the rest of my life until I die alone.

Not that my death will even matter to anyone anyway. I'm sure everyone I've ever known has forgotten all about me by now. It's been so fucking long... I haven't seen Stan, Kyle, or Kenny since high school. Same with Butters, Craig, Clyde, Token, Jimmy, and all of those other guys I sort of used to hang out with.

So, yeah. That's my life in a nutshell. Boring as hell and totally fucking lame, I know. Now, before you go off thinking I'm so fucking miserable, and that you're so glad you aren't me, let me just stop you right there. Because there's actually something else I haven't mentioned yet...

There's... sort of this...

Okay, so there's this girl. Her name is Wendy Testaburger.

And, I have no idea why, but there's just something about that chick that drives me fucking _crazy._ I don't know if it's the fact that, back when we were in elementary school, she seemed to know everything – and I mean fucking _everything_ – there was to know about the environment. It seriously used to piss me off whenever she made some kind of wise ass, hippie comment about recycling or saving energy or that bullshit about the hole in the ozone layer. As if anyone else really gives a shit about that stuff. Oh, sure, they can _pretend_ like they care, but in reality, you know they're all out there driving their expensive, gas guzzling SUVs and carelessly throwing their trash on the ground because they're too goddamn lazy to find a garbage can.

Hey, I do that stuff. At least I have the fucking balls to admit it, unlike all of _those _assholes.

Or maybe it's the way she used to dress, with her tight yellow pants and her snug purple jacket, both of which showed off her super skinny body. She also wore a stupid pink beret, one that was way too small for her head. It looked so stupid.

And then there was her ridiculously long, jet black hair. I swear, every time I used to randomly glance at her during one of the very few classes we actually had together in high school, and I just so happened to notice her casually toss some of her hair behind her shoulder, I'd freeze up and suddenly find myself wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers through that perfectly silky, yet stringy fucking black mess she calls hair.

Then there was her voice. When we were kids, it pretty much sounded like a loud, high pitched screech, or nails scratching against a chalkboard, or a cat drowning in water... basically any noise that would make you wanna throw your hands over your ears and grit your teeth until they start to fucking crack.

...Okay, I realize that with the way I'm describing her right now, she sounds like the most annoying bitch on the planet. You're probably wondering why I even bothered bringing her up in the first place. And all I have to say to that is: fuck you, I have my reasons.

She actually had a boyfriend, though. Stan Marsh. A major pussy, if you ask me, but he was, technically, one of my closest friends. So, yeah, he started dating Wendy in third grade, and from that point on, their relationship was on and off for the next, like, ten years or something like that. I dunno, it was a really fucking long time, that's all you need to know. I think they kinda faded out sometime during middle school, and then somehow, they became closer than ever in high school. It was like they were married or something. They were practically fucking inseparable during senior year. That was the year they... uh... how do I put this?

That was the year they fucked each other for the first time.

Yeah. I'm blunt like that. Get over it. Anyway, the only reason I found out about it was because I was forced to hear Stan bragging about it to Kyle and Kenny in the cafeteria one day. I'd tried so hard not to listen, because seriously, the thought of Stan and Wendy being naked together and humping the shit out of each other made me want to blow my fucking brains out.

But I sat there, wishing I had a gun, and watching as Kenny gave Stan a congratulatory slap on the back while Kyle smiled and started teasing him in that totally gay, brotherly kinda way. All the while I could tell he was super jealous 'cause he was still a virgin and had been trying to get into Bebe Stevens' pants ever since freshman year when she grew bigger titties and started going out with Clyde.

So, after that, like near prom and graduation and all of that stupid shit, Stan gave Wendy this... promise ring. Which is gay, I know, but the gayest part about it was that she actually fucking _accepted it._ He gave it to her at this party... I think it was for their anniversary. Either that or someone's birthday, I have no idea. To tell you the truth, I only went because I figured, sweet, free food and booze, why the fuck not?

But, holy shit, you should've seen the look on her face when he gave her that ring. Her face fucking lit up like a Christmas tree. She got all excited and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him right on the lips, and everyone stood around watching and cheering for them...

When that happened, I can't really explain it exactly, but something inside of me kinda... snapped. They were just so damn _happy_, the two of them. And the way Wendy was smiling for the rest of the night... She literally had the biggest fucking smile on her face I'd ever seen from her. I think that's what triggered my obsession. That smile. She was fucking _glowing_, and it pissed me off so much to think that the reason she was smiling like that was because of Stan. Because they were totally and completely in love with each other, and it was like they were the most perfect couple in the whole goddamn world. It irritated the living shit out of me.

That's when I knew. I knew that the way I was feeling about her that night wasn't about to just go away anytime soon.

Unfortunately for me, someone else found out about my little secret that night, too. And this person was someone I'd never in a million years think I'd _ever_ confide in about anything.

Yeah, irony, isn't it just so fucking awesome and wonderful?

"Dude, Cartman," Kyle called out that night of the party.

I turned around to see the sneaky little Jew rat approaching me from across the room.

"What do _you_ want, Kahl?" I snarled in that cold, uncaring tone I always used whenever I talked to him.

I remember how he stopped and just kinda stared at me with the weirdest look on his face. He looked like he was deep in thought, like his brain was trying so hard to process something, but he also looked like he was... I don't wanna say concerned, but... he definitely knew something was up.

And instead of saying something to me, you know, like a normal person would do, he took me by the arm and dragged me outside where there was nobody else around, and for some insane reason, I just let him do it.

As soon as we stopped walking, though, I jerked my arm out of his scrawny little hand. "Goddammit, _what,_ Jew?" I shouted impatiently.

He was silent for just a little while longer, and then he finally looked me right in the eyes and asked in a totally calm, quiet voice, "Dude... do you like Wendy?"

My heart nearly stopped fucking beating then. I'm not even shitting you. The first thought that popped into my head was, '_HOW THE FUCK DOES HE KNOW?'_

But I cleared my throat and instinctively answered him with a couple questions of my own.

"The fuck are you talking about, Jew? What makes you think I like Wendy?"

But he sensed it. I don't know if it was his psychic Jew powers, or the hostility in my voice, but he totally sensed it. He fucking knew. He knew it, I knew it, we both fucking knew it.

He didn't say anything else, though. Instead, he reached out and gently placed his hand on top of my shoulder.

I think at that moment, that exact moment, we both seemed to forget about our strong, lifelong hatred for each other. He was comforting me and showing me that he genuinely _cared_. And for the first time ever, I felt like I could trust him, and I was fully aware what was happening between us.

We had become fucking friends. Like, for real, honest-to-God friends. Which is so incredibly fucked up to think, considering all the times I used to rip on him for being a no-good, dirty Jew, or the fact that I had done so much shit to him in the past that, looking back on it now, after all these years, I _finally _see that he didn't deserve any of it...

Huh. Go figure.

So after our totally gay, heartwarming moment, Kyle gave me his word that he wouldn't tell anyone, especially not Stan. At that point, I felt the urge to say something threatening like, "You'd better not, Kyle, because if you do, I'll break your goddamn Jew legs!"

But what did I do instead?

I fucking hugged him. Like a complete fag.

...

Um, so, yeah, that's pretty much the situation. I'm in love with a girl who's in love with someone else. And the someone else is one of my good friends, no less, which of course just makes it _so_ much better.

Now, you might think I'm out of my fucking mind, you might think I'm a total dumbass, you might even think I'm just flat out retarded, but...

Well, first off, I don't even give a fuck what you think, bitch.

But...

That still isn't stopping me. And do you want to know why?

Because I'm Eric Cartman.

No one can stop me from getting what I want. Especially not Stan Marsh. I swear, I'll do whatever the fuck it takes, and if that means ruining someone else's life so I can finally be happy, then so be it. Who needs friends anyway, right? Not me, that's for sure. All I know is that I'm sick and tired of fucking living like this. It's time for me to do something I should've done a long time ago...

Mark my words: one day Wendy Testaburger _will_ be mine.

* * *

*cue dramatic music*

XD

**Author's Note:** Did you like it? I really hope so. Please review and tell me what you thought of it! Chapter two will be up soon. :)


	2. Think of Me

**Author's Note:** Each chapter title from now on will be the name of a song from the musical, but I'm leaving out a few songs, like _Prima Donna_. I don't even remember how that song goes, to be honest. XD

So, basically, I don't own the chapter titles either.

And I just feel the need to reiterate that I will _not_ be following the exact storyline of _The Phantom of the Opera_. I'll be following it to a certain extent, but I'll also be adding and changing some stuff to make it fit better with the South Park characters. Just wanted to make that clear.

Without further ado, here's chapter two (OMG, that rhymed XD). It takes place a few months after the first chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Two: Think of Me_

* * *

The cold February morning air smelled so fresh as he took a deep breath, allowing the crisp mountain air to fill his lungs. The town itself was so quiet and serene on this particular morning. There was an occasional car that drove by, and there were several people walking outside on the sidewalk, but there was nothing really out of the ordinary. It seemed like any other quiet little town.

But it wasn't just any ordinary town. It was South Park, his hometown, the place he was born in, and the place he grew up in. As he walked along the snow covered pavement, looking around at all the scenery, he couldn't help but reminisce about all of the crazy adventures he had gone on when he was a kid. He had so many amazing childhood memories of this place. Each and every spot – the elementary school, the playground, Stark's Pond – held its own special memories, and all of those memories shaped him into the person he was today.

That person was none other than Stan Marsh.

Stan hadn't changed much since he was a kid. He was still the same smart, level-headed, sweet guy he was when he was younger. The only difference now was that he had a bachelor's degree in teaching, and he was currently working on earning his master's degree in the field. He had received a scholarship to a college in New York City, the city that never sleeps, the Big Apple. After graduating last year, he decided it would be more convenient for him to stay in the city and go to graduate school there, so he ended up renting an apartment right there in the city.

An entire year had gone by since he made that decision. He realized then, as he was walking, that so much had changed in just one year. He felt like he had really grown up, like he truly was an _adult_ now, an adult who was on his way to getting an actual _career_. It was weird to think, considering just five years ago, he was still in high school, still living in this town, still unsure about what the future would hold. Now, he almost felt like he didn't even belong here anymore. Compared to the fast-paced lifestyle that defined New York City, this quaint little mountain town seemed a lot smaller than he had remembered. The houses all looked the same, and there was absolutely no traffic or large crowds anywhere. It was a little _too_ calm and peaceful.

Still, it was nice to be home.

He had already paid an early visit to his parents' house after a long anticipated wait. They were so eager to see their son again that they'd immediately hugged him the second he walked through the door. His mother went on about how much she had missed him, and his father was slurring his words in his usual drunken glory about how much he loved him and how proud he was of him, while still managing to provide his special words of wisdom.

"And remember, Stanley," Randy hiccupped, struggling to hold himself up as he hung off of Stan's shoulders. "Prostitution is NEVER the answer!"

Stan chuckled softly, his arm securely wrapped around his father's back. "I know, Dad. Thanks," he said warmly.

And now, he was on his way to his best friend's house. He couldn't wait to see him again. They hadn't seen each other since Stan decided to live in the city last year. Of course, they kept in touch through phone calls and e-mails, but it wasn't the same. Their lives were a lot busier now. They were lucky if they found five minutes to actually sit down and have a conversation over the phone.

But they were like brothers, Stan and Kyle. Whenever they were kept apart for too long, they'd eventually start going insane over how much they missed each other. They were, and always would be, best friends forever. The bond they shared was so strong that nothing could ever tear it apart, not even the fact that they were each living in different states.

Stan walked up the pathway of Kyle's brand new home, the excitement inside of him building up with each step he took. Once he reached the porch, he rang the doorbell several times, unable to control his excitement any longer. He waited impatiently for Kyle to answer the door.

Kyle's house was similar to all of the other ones. It was small, but it still looked very nice. The outside was painted an off-white color, and there were a few bushes in front of the house, as well as a red car parked in the driveway. It had large windows and a tiny garage, and the atmosphere around it felt so homey and inviting. It definitely felt like it was Kyle's home.

As for Kyle himself, he had, as expected, grew up to become very successful after high school. He'd graduated with an impressive 3.98 GPA, the highest rank in the class. With his grades, he was free to attend any college he wanted. He ended up going to one of the most well-known Ivy League schools in the United States, Harvard University, where he studied medicine, deciding that he wanted to become a doctor one day. He ended up moving back to South Park after graduating with his bachelor's degree, because even though he hated this town when he was a kid, he realized there was really no other place he would rather live in. He was happy there, and that was all that mattered.

Kyle came to the door suddenly, flinging it open so fast that it was amazing it hadn't just flown off the hinges altogether. His eyes lit up when he saw Stan. They smiled at each other, and for a moment, they just stood there, neither one of them saying a word, both too overjoyed to actually speak.

"...Well?" Stan said at last, the giddiness in his voice spilling out of him. "Are you gonna let me in or not? I'm freezing my ass off out here!"

Kyle took that as an opportunity to throw his arms around Stan, who gladly returned the eager hug. Their arms tightened around each other in a warm embrace, the fit feeling so perfect. Nothing could ruin this moment.

"Oh, _God_, get a room, would ya?!" a familiar voice called from inside the house.

Stan peered over Kyle's shoulder to see the one and only Kenny McCormick walking toward them from the living room.

"Dude, no way... Kenny?! Is that you?!" Stan asked, completely shocked, but at the same time extremely happy to see him.

"That's right, babe," Kenny said playfully, flashing him a devilish smile.

He hadn't changed at all since high school. He was still the same perverted creep that everyone knew and loved. His appearance, however, had changed quite a bit. He stopped wearing his trademark parka, replacing it instead with a much nicer, warmer jacket. His usually unkempt blonde hair was now neatly trimmed and shiny, and he wasn't as skinny as he used to be. He managed to bulk up a bit after finally being able to provide himself with actual food that he so desperately needed. He also somehow managed to find a decent, easy paying job that surprisingly didn't involve taking off his clothes or whoring himself out to a bunch of lonely, middle-aged women.

"Now give Daddy some sugar," Kenny said, holding his arms out.

Kyle reluctantly let go of Stan, letting his hands slowly slip off of Stan's shoulders as he turned around to face Kenny. Stan ran into Kenny's open arms, nearly tackling him to the ground. Kenny welcomed him by slapping his hands onto Stan's back, patting it a few times in that tough guy, 'bromance' kind of way.

"I don't believe this," Stan said, still filled with that euphoric feeling. He pulled back from Kenny to look at him, his arms falling to his sides. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Kenny smirked again, his eyes half-lidded. He tossed a glance at Kyle, who now had his arms crossed over his chest, though it was obvious that he wasn't _actually_ angry. He just knew what Kenny was going to say, and he was about to hit him for it.

Kenny returned his gaze to Stan. "Well, if you _must_ know," he began, trying his hardest to keep a straight face, but failing miserably as he said his next words, "Me and Kyle are lovers."

Kyle rolled his eyes, a small grin spreading across his face. "You're such an asshole," he said, sighing and shaking his head.

"Love you too, baby," Kenny teased, winking flirtatiously at him.

Kyle quickly turned his back to them, not wanting either of them to see the huge smile he had on his face. He closed the door and walked past both of them, heading toward the kitchen.

"No, dude, seriously, why are you here?" Stan asked as he began walking with Kenny, the two of them following behind Kyle. "I thought you bought your own place in Denver a few months ago."

Kenny shrugged. "I did, but Kyle told me you were flying out here to visit, so I figured, what the hell, I might as well come too," he explained, then paused and added, "You know it ain't a party unless Kenny's around."

"Well, that's true," Stan agreed. He looked around as they passed through Kyle's living room. It was perfectly tidy, not a trace of dust or crumbs anywhere. The walls were a cream color, and against one of those walls was a beige leather couch that looked as though it hadn't even been sat in yet. The rest of the furniture looked just as clean and new: a rug in the center of the room, a floor lamp, a coffee table, a flat screen TV, and some pictures hanging on the walls. It was all so _Kyle._

"Damn, dude, I'm impressed," Stan said once they all arrived to the kitchen. "You have a really nice house."

Kyle let out a small laugh as he made his way to his stainless steel refrigerator, opening it up to see what he could serve them. "Yeah, dude, I'm sure my house is just _so_ much nicer than your fancy apartment," he said sarcastically, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a pitcher of iced tea. He turned to face Stan, who was taking a seat next to Kenny on one of the stools by the kitchen counter. "Tell me, how many square feet is it again?" he asked, setting the pitcher down on his spotless counter.

Stan exhaled loudly, smiling as he rested his elbows on the counter. He watched as Kyle walked over to the cabinets. "Dude, I told you," Stan started, "it's just a small one bedroom, one bathroom apartment. It's really nothing special."

"If it's nothing special," Kyle went on, a new mocking, pestering tone in his voice, "then how come you haven't invited me over there yet?"

"Yeah, me too," Kenny chimed in. "I mean, dude, a small, secluded, one bedroom apartment in the big city? That sounds like the _perfect_ place to have an orgy!" He nudged Stan's arm. "Whattaya say, man?"

"Dude!" Stan exclaimed, pushing Kenny away. "You're sick, Kenny."

"Aww, thanks," the blonde said sincerely.

"And dude," Stan said, directing his attention to Kyle again, "you know why I still haven't invited you over. I've just been so damn busy lately with school and my part-time job."

"So?" Kyle asked, grabbing three glasses from the cabinet. "You think _I_ haven't been busy?" He angrily slammed one of the glasses down on the counter.

"Okay, okay, you're right," Stan said hastily. "I'm sorry. You can come over any time you want."

Kyle smiled briefly, but he quickly caught himself and frowned, attempting to appear as though he was still annoyed. He carefully set the other two glasses down on the counter. "On second thought, I don't think I'll have the time to come and visit you. I've just been so _busy_ and all," he said with his usual sarcasm.

"You're a douche," Stan said, meaning it in the most loving way possible.

"Hey, what is this, beer?" Kenny asked randomly as he helped himself to the pitcher that Kyle had placed in front of them.

"Yeah, I know I am," Kyle said to Stan, "and no, dude, it's not beer."

"Eh, oh well," Kenny said indifferently, "I'll take what I can get it." After pouring some iced tea into each glass, he handed one to Kyle and slid the other one over to Stan. "All right." He held up his glass in the air. "A toast..." Stan and Kyle raised their glasses as well. "...to friends. I seriously couldn't ask for better ones." He paused, backtracking that statement. "Well... I _could_ ask for better ones, but I'm sure all the hot ones have already been taken, so... I guess you guys are good enough," he finished with a teasing grin.

The three friends clinked their glasses together. They became quiet for a moment as they all took sips from the glasses.

"Damn, dude, this is just like old times," Stan said in realization. "All of us together again..."

Kenny quickly gulped down his entire drink and slammed it onto the counter. "Yeah, all of us except Cartman."

Kyle suddenly froze at the mention of Cartman's name, his facial expression changing simultaneously. He felt his stomach drop, and his body tensed up visibly as he clutched his glass tightly in his hand. The warm, lighthearted atmosphere seemed to instantly melt away as the other two fell completely silent, each becoming lost in their own thoughts.

"I wonder where he is now," Stan mused, hoping to diffuse some of the awkward tension that was clearly starting to build up.

Kenny grunted in acknowledgment. "Probably in prison or something," he surmised.

Kyle laughed nervously. "Yeah, probably," he said, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against the side of his glass with his free hand. Luckily for him, his uneasy behavior went unnoticed by both Stan and Kenny, who both promptly dropped the subject and started casually talking about Kenny's new house.

'_Shit...'_ Kyle thought worriedly. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they found out...

* * *

Dozens of bright fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, lighting up the stage and giving the theater an exciting glow. The theater itself wasn't too big, but it was still very luxurious looking. It had a high ceiling, and hanging from the center of that ceiling was a large, beautiful, crystalline chandelier. The walls were tan colored, and there were several hundred cushioned maroon chairs that matched the long maroon curtains. The room almost looked like a fancy, extravagant Broadway theater. The theater seats were quickly filling with people, all of them excited to see the play that opening night.

Backstage was chaotic with people running around back and forth, in and out of dressing rooms, up and down stairs. The actors and actresses were busy fiddling with their costumes and fixing up their makeup. There was so much nervous energy in the air, but it was that very thriving force that was motivating everyone and getting them all excited.

"Only ten minutes 'til curtains open, people!" the frazzled director announced to no one in particular. "Let's get a move on!"

Amongst all of the dolled up actresses was a young woman with sparkling brown eyes and long black hair. She had a confident look on her face and butterflies in her stomach as she gazed at her stunning reflection in the mirror, admiring her own natural beauty. She smiled at her reflection, showing off her pearly white teeth and shimmering pink lip gloss. She felt just as good as she looked. This was going to be a great night.

She picked up a hairbrush on the vanity and slowly ran it through her raven locks. She realized then, as she was sitting there brushing her hair, that in just a few short minutes, she would be out there on stage, the place where she had always felt her happiest. She had always had a secret passion for music and theater. She started taking an interest in singing around the time of that _High School Musical_ fad back when she was in elementary school. Then, when she was in high school, she took that interest one step further and began looking into acting as well. Finally, once she entered college, she decided to pursue her love for singing and acting by becoming a theater major. With all of her hard work and dedication, as well as the help and support from her best friend, she finally got the opportunity to become a professional actress, just as she'd always dreamed of.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, one that immediately pulled her right out of her thoughts. "Come in!" she called out, setting the brush back down on the vanity. She spun around in her chair just as the door started to open, and before the door was even fully open, she saw the silhouette of the person and recognized who it was right away. "Bebe!" she squealed with excitement as she sprang to her feet, her hair bouncing up and falling back down perfectly into place.

"Oh my God, Wendy, you look absolutely _gorgeous!_" the blonde proclaimed with just as much excitement in her voice.

"Oh, so do you!" Wendy said cheerfully.

The two walked over to one another and stopped in the middle of the room to give each other a quick, delicate hug, each being careful not to mess up the other's flawless hair or makeup.

"So how are you feeling?" Bebe asked as they pulled away. "Nervous?"

"A little," Wendy admitted.

"Well, don't be," her best friend said encouragingly. "You're going to do great."

Wendy smiled, grateful that Bebe was there and going through this experience with her. Bebe always knew exactly what to say to make Wendy feel better.

Bebe had always been a thoughtful, intellectual girl, her inner beauty radiating through her outer beauty. Her usually long, curly blonde hair was currently straightened and wrapped in a tight bun. She was wearing a light pink leotard, nude colored tights, and light pink ballerina slippers. Her dark purple eye shadow brought out her shiny sapphire eyes. She was a true vision of beauty. Wendy admired everything about her.

The two had stayed best friends all throughout high school, and they even ended up attending the same college together. For Bebe, dancing had always been a hobby of hers, and with Wendy's encouragement, she started taking ballet classes while also focusing on her major in psychology. After graduating, they decided to rent an apartment together just outside of Denver, and it wasn't until a few months ago that they found out that a new theater was opening up there. Before they knew it, they were both trying out to be in the play, and they each received recurring roles that they were both very happy with.

"Places, everyone!" the director yelled, sounding even more anxious now. "We only have five minutes now! Five minutes!"

"Good luck," Bebe said, giving Wendy's arm a comforting squeeze before letting go and exiting her dressing room, on her way to take her place with the rest of the ballerinas.

After she left, Wendy stood still for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was it.

* * *

Up in the balcony, Kenny squirmed around in his seat in an attempt to make himself more comfortable, but he wasn't really succeeding much.

"Um, no offense, Kyle," he said, still moving around, "but why exactly are we here? I mean, a _ballet_, dude? This is pretty fucking gay."

"It's _not_ gay," Kyle said, lowering his eyebrows and glaring at Kenny. "You're just too immature to appreciate this kind of stuff. Right, Stan?" he asked, turning to his friend sitting on the other side of him.

"Actually, I agree with Kenny," Stan said, not bothering to look up at Kyle as he flipped through the program in his hands. "This is pretty gay, dude."

"Ha," Kenny said triumphantly.

"What?!" Kyle screamed in a shocked tone. "But, dude, you live in New York! Are you telling me you've never seen a Broadway play or anything like that?"

"Well, sure, I've seen a few Broadway plays," Stan replied, "but those are _plays_, Kyle, not ballets."

"Oh, whatever," Kyle said, officially giving up as he leaned back in his seat. "You guys suck. Bebe gave me these tickets, and-"

"Ohhhh, _Bebe,_" Kenny suddenly interrupted him, drawing out Bebe's name like it was the most interesting name ever. "I get it now. Still trying to nail her, huh? Damn, Kyle, how long have you been trying to get with that girl?"

Kyle's eyes widened. "I-I'm not!" he stammered. "I mean, I haven't been... I wasn't trying to..." He could feel his cheeks starting to heat up as the smirk on Kenny's face slowly grew wider. He sighed. "We're just friends. I'm over her now."

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked, clearly unconvinced. "So... when were you _under_ her?"

Kyle felt all the blood rush up to his face, which by now, was just as red as his fiery red hair. "Fuck you," he growled, trying to compose himself.

The look on Kenny's face softened a little as he reached out to put a hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Aww, don't worry, man," he said comfortingly, patting his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry. I was just kidding. Seriously, though, if you like her so much, why don't you just, you know... tell her?"

Kyle shook Kenny's hand away. "I can't just _tell_ her, Kenny," he said, deciding not to deny it anymore. "Besides, she just got out of a really bad relationship-"

"What, you mean with Clyde?" Kenny asked.

"Yeah," Kyle said, faltering a bit. "She caught him cheating on her."

"Damn," Kenny commented. For a split second, he felt the need to express a little bit of sympathy for Bebe, but then he thought of something that was _way_ more important. "Well, come on, Kyle, now's the perfect time for you to make your move! She's probably all weak and vulnerable right now. You have to hurry up before she gets her self-esteem back!"

"Dude!" Kyle cried, completely appalled. "That's just messed up. You know I'm not like that. I'm just gonna take things slow and see what-"

"DUDE!" Stan screamed out of nowhere, hid hand shooting out to grab Kyle's arm.

Kyle jumped in surprise. "Ow! Dude, what the hell?!" he screamed back, turning his head sharply to look at Stan, who was staring at the program with a newly shocked look on his face.

Stan squeezed Kyle's arm so tightly that his own knuckles were starting to turn white. He let go once he realized what he was doing.

"Dude..." he said again, much softer this time. He finally looked up at Kyle. "You didn't tell me _Wendy Testaburger_ was in this play!"

"Ballet," Kyle corrected him.

"_Dude!_" Stan shrieked in a "that's so _not_ the point" type of way.

Kyle smirked. "Yeah, she is. I was waiting for you to figure that out. She actually lives with Bebe in-"

"_What?!_" Stan screeched, staring at Kyle wildly and looking like he was about to have a heart attack. "Why the hell didn't you _tell_ me?!"

"Well 'cause I-"

"This is unbelievable!" Stan said, cutting Kyle off once again as he suddenly shot up from his seat. "Dude, I have to talk to her!"

"Whoa, dude, calm down," Kyle said, reaching up and pulling Stan back down. "The show's gonna start any minute now. You'll have to wait 'til after it's over."

"Dammit," Stan griped. "All right, fine."

"Why do you wanna talk to her so bad, anyway?" Kenny asked, leaning over to look at Stan. "Didn't you guys break up, like, a really long time ago?"

"It wasn't _that_ long ago," Stan said, sounding slightly annoyed, "and besides, we agreed to stay friends-"

"Friends with benefits, huh?" Kenny asked, looking intrigued.

"Eww, dude, no," Stan said quickly, noticing the look of interest on Kenny's face. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Thank you!" Kyle interjected.

"Hey, at least _I'm_ getting some," Kenny said in his defense. "When was the last time either of you two got any?"

His two friends blinked, their expressions mirroring each other's, both equally taken aback by the question. They fell silent, neither one daring to actually answer him.

Kenny grinned in self-satisfaction. "That's what I thought."

The lights in the theater started to dim then, signifying that the show was about to start. Everyone in the audience hushed each other as the theater went completely dark. Soon, the curtains opened, revealing the stage, which was adorned with beautiful scenery, and where seven ballerinas stood perfectly poised. Their arms stretched upward in unison as the orchestra began to play, the music sounding light and airy.

Kenny briefly looked away from the ballet, curious to see the look on Kyle's face, since he knew one of those ballerinas on stage was Bebe. He grinned slyly.

"Damn, Kyle, doesn't Bebe look hot?" he whispered.

Kyle kept his eyes glued to the stage, only half aware of what Kenny had just asked him. "Yeah..." he whispered back without even realizing it, his eyes still fixated on the ballet. He suddenly shook himself out of his daze. "Oh, goddammit, Kenny!" he whispered a bit more loudly.

Kenny smiled to himself.

* * *

The entire theater was flourishing with a loud, thunderous applause. Everyone had risen from their seats as they clapped wildly, giving the people on stage a well deserved standing ovation.

The actors and dancers all took their bows, and after a few minutes of nonstop clapping, the curtains finally slid closed.

"Okay," Kenny said, turning to Kyle, "I guess that wasn't _that_ gay. At least I got to see chicks with hot bodies dancing all around for a good two hours."

Kyle rolled his eyes.

As for Stan, as soon as the ballet had ended, he'd snuck his way out of the audience and slipped backstage while everyone else was busy applauding. He was currently walking around behind the curtains, trying to keep himself unnoticed as he walked past the ballerinas, who were all too busy giggling and hugging each other to even notice him. He searched through the crowd of people as he walked briskly through them, hoping he'd somehow be able to find...

"Stan?" he suddenly heard a female voice call out.

Stan stopped walking. He knew who _that_ voice belonged to. He turned around to look at her.

"Hey, Bebe," he greeted as he saw her sprinting toward him.

"Oh my God, Stan Marsh, it _is_ you!" she said excitedly. "What are you doing here?!"

"Kyle invited me," Stan said.

Hearing Kyle's name ignited Bebe's excitement even more. "Really? Where is he?" she asked curiously.

"He's up in the balcony," Stan answered, and then he immediately followed with his own question, "Have you seen Wendy anywhere?"

Bebe let out a small, lighthearted chuckle. "Oh, God, _of course_ that's why you're here!" she said, feeling a bit foolish for not realizing it right away. "Yeah, I think she's in her dressing room. It's down that way." She pointed to a hallway straight ahead. "First door-"

"Thanks!" Stan said hurriedly, not bothering to say goodbye as he ran off in the direction she pointed in. He stopped when he reached the first door he came to. He could feel his stomach already starting to tighten in that uncomfortably familiar way, giving him those nervous butterflies he hated so much. What if she didn't want to see him? Sure, they were friends now, but it had been over a year since the two of them had actually spoken to each other. He took a deep breath, hoping it would somehow calm down his nerves a little bit. Slowly, he reached out and knocked on the door, the sound echoing throughout the vacant hallway. He drew back and waited for a moment. Maybe she wasn't in there?

"Come in!" he heard a voice – _her_ voice – call from behind the door.

She _was_ in there. Fuck.

Stan gripped the doorknob and started turning it, his heart beating heavily in his chest as he pushed it open ever so slowly.

"Bebe?" he heard her ask as the door continued to creak open.

He took one last deep breath before finally pushing the door open all the way.

"No, it's me."

Wendy felt her heart stop when she heard the male voice. Was that who she thought it was? She turned around slowly, her lips parting open as she locked eyes with...

"_Stan?_"

Stan opened his mouth to respond, but he found himself unable to say anything. He felt his breath hitch inside his throat as he stared at her, his eyes widening without him even realizing it. He had seen her from the balcony, of course, but he wasn't able to get a good look at her from all the way up there. Now, he just stood there, totally speechless, getting lost in her beautiful brown eyes. She looked so...

"Wow," Stan marveled, still at a loss for words, "you look... wow..."

Wendy felt a deep blush make its way to her cheeks as she gazed back at him, his bright blue eyes piercing right through her heart and sending chills down her spine. She felt the sudden urge to run up to him and jump into his arms, but she resisted it, trying her hardest to suppress her overwhelming excitement.

"I... I can't believe you're here," she said truthfully.

"Me... neither..." Stan said.

Wendy grinned widely, unable to control herself any longer. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in close so that their bodies were pressing against each other. Stan felt his heart jump in his chest, amazed that she _still_ had that kind of effect on him, even after all these years.

He wrapped his own arms around her waist, the subtle lilac scent of her perfume quickly filling his lungs and starting to make him feel lightheaded.

"It's really nice to see you," she said softly.

"It's really nice to see you too, Wendy," he said as he rested his chin on top of her shoulder, enjoying the feeling of her hair lightly ticking his cheek. He closed his eyes, and without thinking, he whispered, "I missed you."

Wendy smiled again, her heart filling up with that warm, fuzzy feeling. "I missed you too, Stan," she said, finally starting to pull away from him.

They looked into each other's eyes again. So much had changed since they had last seen each other, yet being together right now made it all seem like none of it mattered.

Stan awkwardly cleared his throat. "So, uh," he began, trying his best not to sound nervous, "are you busy right now?"

Wendy blinked. "Now?"

"Y-Yeah," he stuttered, his face getting hotter, "are you free to, you know... do something?"

Wendy tried to keep herself from smiling again, though she was finding it to be pretty hard. Stan was just so _cute_ when he was nervous. That was definitely one thing that hadn't changed about him.

"Sure," she said. "That would be nice."

"Really?" Stan asked, sounding somewhat surprised.

Wendy nodded. "Just give me ten minutes."

"Okay," Stan said. "I'll wait for you outside."

He walked out of her dressing room then, leaving Wendy by herself once again. She turned around to look herself over in the mirror to look over her appearance. Her hair was fine... perhaps some lipstick? Her lip gloss had mostly faded by now, so it seemed appropriate.

She reached for the lipstick sitting on top of the vanity, quickly uncapping it and twisting it open. Just as she was about to put the red lipstick to her lips, she heard something shuffling about. She froze, cringing at the sound, knowing she was about to hear his deep, husky voice any second now...

"And just where do you think _you're_ going, Wendy?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Damn, that was the longest thing I've ever written so far. Hopefully, since you just took the time to read through all of that, you wouldn't mind taking a few seconds or so to leave a review? I'd really appreciate it if you did.


	3. Angel of Music

**Author's Note:** Here's where things start to get interesting. ;D

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Three: Angel of Music_

* * *

Wendy let out a long, exasperated sigh. She was still holding the lipstick up to her lips as she simultaneously rolled her eyes. She went ahead and ran the luscious red lipstick over her upper lip, deciding that she would simply ignore the other person in the room, since she was in _no_ mood whatsoever to talk to him right now. She pulled her hand back and rubbed her lips together, spreading the lipstick over her bottom lip, before applying just a little more to make it an even coating.

There was another shuffling noise coming from the ceiling. She could hear his pounding footsteps drawing closer. _'Fucking son of a bitch!'_ she thought as she re-capped the lipstick and carelessly chucked it at the vanity in an act of frustration. It hit against the mirror and immediately rolled right off the vanity, landing near her feet. She placed her hands on top of the smooth, marble surface of the vanity, a dark look forming on her face as she mentally told herself to stay calm.

Suddenly, there was a huge crash, one that practically shook the ground beneath her. She didn't bother turning around, though. She didn't move at all. She wasn't startled in the slightest bit by the thunderous sound. In these past several months, she had grown used to him making ridiculous entrances like that. Apparently he had never truly gotten over his stupid 'Coon' phase. She stood perfectly still as she continued gazing at herself in the mirror. She started angrily curling her fingers, wishing so badly that she had the strength to claw the surface of this goddamn marble vanity.

She could see his dark, looming figure from the reflection in the mirror as he slowly stood up, muttering swear words to himself and rubbing his shoulder. He was wearing a long, black coat, one that he always wore, but as to why he did, she had no idea. Or even care, for that matter. She maintained her stance, her eyes narrowing when he finally turned around and locked eyes with her through the mirror.

He narrowed his eyes as well, and the fire in both his eyes and hers seemed to send an invisible spark through the air.

"I asked you a question, ho," he said, his voice extremely low yet dangerously powerful, causing Wendy to cringe noticeably. Her curled fingers tightened into fists.

"I heard you," she said through clenched teeth.

He smirked, the blazing twinkle in his eyes lighting up even more. He started walking leisurely toward her then, the tension between them building up with each step he took. He stopped once he reached her, standing so closely behind her now that she could feel him breathing down her neck. He slowly reached up and placed one of his large, strong hands on top of her thin shoulder. The second he did, she felt her entire body go completely limp, her shoulders sinking slightly and her fingers unclenching on their own accord. He noticed it and smirked even wider, for he was fully aware of his power over her. They _both_ knew he was the one in control here, and more importantly, they both knew that Wendy absolutely couldn't stand it.

She closed her eyes, releasing a faint whimper as she felt his other hand stealthily move up her back, past her shoulder, past her neck, until it reached her ear. His thick fingers slipped into her silky black hair, running slowly through her smooth locks as he leaned in as close as he possibly could. His breath, hot and heavy, sent a shiver down her spine as he put his lips near her ear and whispered to her in his deep voice, "You _know_ that wasn't part of our deal, Wendy."

She shuddered violently as he said her name, a shaky breath of air escaping her lips at the same time. She hated him so much. Hated him for finding her. Hated him for bringing her here. Hated him for saying her name in that dark, threatening... _sexy_ voice of his.

But, mostly, she hated him for having such a powerful effect over her. It drove her crazy.

_He_ drove her crazy.

"I hate you so much, Cartman," she whispered back weakly.

He scoffed. "Like I care," he said as he roughly grabbed her jaw and turned her head sharply to face him, his dark brown eyes meeting her lighter ones. Before she could say anything else, he kissed her. She felt a wave of nausea hit her stomach – and a little bit of something else, too, though she tried to ignore that tingly, fluttering feeling – as his lips moved rhythmically up and down against hers in a rough, heated kiss.

And she gave in. Just like always. She gave in because she didn't have a fucking choice.

So she broke the kiss for only a moment, her lips tearing apart from his with a loud smack of suction as she spun around on her heels, only to smash her lips against his all over again. He kissed her back fiercely as she reached up to cup his face in her hands. His stubbly facial hair scratched against her chin and the palms of her hands as he pressed his lips deeper into hers. She nearly fell backwards when he did, but his arm tightly wrapping around her waist held her securely in place. She didn't even attempt to stop him when his large hand started running up her body and hungrily cupping one of her breasts. She also didn't try to stop him when his warm, wet tongue started pushing its way into her mouth, trying to pry open her lips and gain entrance. She reluctantly opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to slide inside. His tongue rolled around inside her mouth, and she couldn't fight the long moan that traveled up her throat and escaped her lips.

He suddenly pulled away from her, panting heavily. She removed her hands from his face, panting as well, trying to regain her breath. She felt a strong urge to step away from him then, but his arm linked around her waist made it impossible for her to move. She looked right at him, immediately noticing her red lipstick smudged all over his lips. He reached up and sloppily wiped it off with the back of his hand. He slowly smirked at her in that evil, seductive way of his.

"I thought I told you to call me 'Eric', bitch," he said, still breathing hard, though it was gradually returning to a normal, steady pace.

Wendy gave him a sly look, her breathing calming down as well as she reached up to wipe his saliva off the corner of her mouth. "I'm _not_ going to call you that, _Cartman_," she said, purposely emphasizing his name just to piss him off.

"And why not?" he asked in an almost mocking tone.

She seriously wanted to slap that goddamn arrogant smirk off his face. "Because," she replied, "I'd only call you by your first name if I had respect for you, which I don't, because you're a heartless prick." Before he had the chance to retaliate, she quickly added, "And stop calling me 'bitch.' I'm not you're bitch."

Cartman tossed his head back and chuckled in the most vindictive way possible. He finally let go of Wendy's waist, his wild, messy brown hair falling across his eyes as he shook his head.

"Ah, but you are my bitch," he said, brushing his untamed hair out of his face – he desperately needed a fucking haircut, not that he would actually get one, but still. "Unless..." he started, the tone in his voice changing into his so-called contemplative one that she knew all too well, "you don't... _want_ this awesome part in the ballet? 'Cause I can easily take it away from you, no problem. All I'd have to do is make one little call..."

Wendy leaned her back against the vanity. She started absentmindedly twisting a strand of her hair around her index finger, a nervous habit of hers that she had developed over the years. She briefly glanced up at the clock hanging above the door. It was already a quarter after eleven. She was supposed to be meeting up with Stan now...

She sighed, untwisting the strand of hair from her finger and letting it fall back into place. This was hopeless.

"Okay," she said in defeat. "You're right."

He grinned in that disgustingly conceited, yet undeniably sexy way again, and the second he did, Wendy felt her heartbeat suddenly speed up inside her chest. _'Fuck.'_

"That's what I thought," he said suggestively, leaning in to give her one last powerful kiss on the lips. She didn't resist the kiss – she _couldn't_ resist it, even if she wanted to. She didn't know what it was exactly that compelled her to close her eyes and kiss him back _every single fucking time_ he kissed her like this, yet she somehow always found herself doing it. She wished more than anything that she could just figure out _why_ the fuck she was – as much as she hated to admit it – so fucking attracted to this evil son of a bitch.

She could smell the sharp, rugged scent of his cologne as he kissed her. It was clouding her mind and making her feel dizzy, and she felt that familiar sickly warm feeling arise in her stomach again.

He pulled back sooner than she expected, but she was instantly struck with an overwhelming sensation of relief when he did. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't help but notice the look on Cartman's face. His eyes were half-lidded, and the smug grin on his face had softened a great deal. He almost looked... sheepish now...

_'That's new.'_

Her suspicions would've risen if the smile hadn't disappeared from his face so fucking quickly. It barely lasted more than a second before it was once again replaced with his usual slap-worthy, egotistical grin.

"All right," he said as he turned around and started heading towards a table near the door, "I have some stuff to take care of." He stopped and turned back around to face her. "I expect you to be here when I get back," he said as though it were a threat – which it was, but Wendy tried her best not to seem intimidated by it.

She folded her arms tightly over her chest, deciding to test him. "Or else what?" she asked mischievously, arching an eyebrow at him.

He was climbing on top of the small table now – he always used it in order to reach the vent in the ceiling. He stretched his arms upward, his fingers clutching securely onto the metal edge of the vent. He was just about to pull himself up when he stopped and looked at her, finally deciding to give her an answer.

"Oh," he said, his lips curving into a devious smirk. "I think you _know_."

And with that, he hoisted himself up into the vent as smoothly as he possibly could. It didn't work out too well, though, since his legs started dangling from the opening as he struggled to pull the rest of his body up.

Wendy put a hand over her mouth, trying her absolute hardest to stifle the giggle that was threatening to explode out of her.

"Ay, stop laughing, Wihndy!" Cartman shouted in his angry southern accent, his powerful voice echoing through the vent. This only caused Wendy to smile even wider, but she still somehow managed to hold herself back from laughing hysterically. It was just funny, because right now, he wasn't Eric Cartman, the manipulative asshole who blackmailed her into this whole fucked up situation. No, right now, he was just Cartman, some huge guy who was failing miserably at trying to squeeze himself into a vent.

She could hear him making grunting noises as he kicked his legs back and forth, slowly but surely wiggling the rest of his body into the vent. She waited silently, listening as he mumbled obscenities and shuffled around in the vent. The loud clank of his footsteps against the metal grew softer and softer until she didn't hear anything at all.

She let out a long sigh of relief. He was gone.

_'Finally.'_

She was free again. Temporarily, but still, she was free, and it felt fucking _great_. She turned and hastily reached for her small purple handbag on the vanity_. _She opened it up and looked inside to make sure she had everything she needed. _'Let's see...'_ she thought, mentally checking off each item as she found it in her purse, _'keys, wallet, cell phone, mirror, gum...'_

She paused and looked up at herself in the mirror, immediately frowning when she saw that her lipstick was smudged all over her lips. '_Shit, where'd I put that lipstick?'_ Her eyes dropped to scan the vanity. Various cosmetics were messily sprawled out all over it_, _but the lipstick was nowhere to be found_. _She started moving some of the makeup items around, not even caring when things like her eye shadow or lip gloss fell to the floor. After spending a few seconds rearranging everything on the vanity, she was only successful in making everything even messier.

_'Oh well,'_ she thought, deciding to give up. There was no point in trying to find it now anyway. She was already late as it was, and this was just wasting more time. She closed her bag and threw it over her shoulder, rushing out of her dressing room and grabbing her coat as she left.

* * *

"Shit, man, where the fuck is Stan?! I'm freezing my nuts off out here!"

Kenny and Kyle were standing outside the theater, waiting impatiently for Stan to come out. They hadn't seen him since the ballet had ended, and that was well over forty minutes ago. Kyle had tried calling Stan multiple times, but of course he wasn't answering his phone. The redhead brought his arms up now, crossing them over his body for warmth as he turned to face Kenny.

"Dude, I don't fucking know!" he shouted, his breath coming out in white puffs as it hit the cold air. "I called him like eight times!"

The blonde hugged himself as well, rubbing his hands briskly up and down his arms. "Well call him again, bitch!" he demanded.

Kyle raised his eyebrows. "Did you just call me a bitch?" he asked in disbelief.

"Would you just fucking call him, please?!" Kenny shouted. "My balls are seriously starting to freeze here, Kyle! It's only a matter of time before my dick freezes off, too! That can't happen to me, man! Unlike you, I actually _use_ mine!"

The last comment earned him a solid punch in the shoulder from Kyle.

"What?!" Kenny asked. "It's true!"

Kyle opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped himself when he heard the muffled sound of his cell phone ringing in his coat pocket.

"Oh, _finally!_" Kenny cried in relief, assuming that it was Stan who was calling him. He watched in eagerness as Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

However, when Kyle looked at the screen, his face dropped. _'SHIT!'_ he screamed in his head.

It wasn't Stan.

Kenny instantly frowned, confused by the look on Kyle's face.

"What?" he asked. "Who is it?"

Kyle glanced back up at Kenny, his mouth half open and his eyes wide. He was frozen like that, not saying a word as his phone continued ringing in its annoyingly high-pitched ring tone.

"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Kenny asked in genuine concern.

"I, uh..." Kyle said, his eyes dropping to look down at his phone again. "I have to take this, dude."

Kenny blinked. "But who is it?"

"I'll be right back," Kyle said, purposely avoiding the question.

"But-"

Kyle didn't wait to hear what Kenny was going to say as he started walking away from him as quickly as he could. He walked straight ahead and rounded the corner of the theater building, turning his head briefly just to make sure that Kenny wasn't following him. He wasn't. Thank God, because even though he knew that he was clearly going to have to come up with a believable explanation for all of this later, he was just glad that he didn't have to worry about Kenny spying on him right now.

Once he felt that he was far enough from Kenny, he stopped walking and opened his phone.

"Why the hell are you calling me, Cartman?" Kyle immediately asked, his voice hushed but stern.

There was silence on the other end at first, but Kyle listened intently, waiting for him to answer. A few seconds passed before he finally decided to speak up.

"I think you know why I'm calling you, Kahl," Cartman said calmly. A little _too_ calmly.

Kyle froze, taken aback by the tone of his voice. "Dude, stop talking to me like that! It's fucking weird!"

"Pssh, well, fine!" Cartman said, sounding offended. "Just answer the goddamn question!"

"You didn't ask me a question, idiot!" Kyle snapped at him.

"Goddammit, Kahl, stop fucking calling me!"

"_You_ called _me!_"

There was dead silence on the other line again as Cartman paused, backtracking their entire conversation. Kyle merely smiled to himself, imagining the look on Cartman's face. He wished he could see it. Cartman could be so fucking stupid at times, and Kyle _loved_ calling him out on it. Sure, the two of them were friends now, but that didn't mean much had changed between them. They still argued and insulted each other all the time, because with their clashing personalities, that was just inevitable. They just did it in a much more civilized manner now.

Kyle suddenly heard a deep sigh on the other end.

"Why the _fuck_ didn't you tell me Stan was coming, Kaaaahl? Hmm?" Cartman asked, dragging out Kyle's name for no reason at all, other than to piss him off. It worked, too, because he heard a low growl from Kyle.

"I don't have to tell you everything, fatass," he said, fully aware what Cartman was trying to do. He was trying to make him feel guilty, because they had a deal, and this was, technically, part of that deal, since it _did_ involve Wendy... But fuck that. It was still true, technically. He didn't have to tell Cartman _everything._

"Ay, stop calling me that, Jew!" Cartman screamed defensively, completely changing the subject all of a sudden. "I'm not fat anymore, remember?"

Kyle snorted. "Wow, dude, really? You think you're skinny?" he asked, seriously wanting to know.

"I didn't say _that_," Cartman clarified.

"So..." Kyle began, pausing to try and figure out what he meant by that. "You _do_ know you're a fatass?"

Cartman let out his own growl of frustration. "No, Kahl!" he yelled. He paused and took a deep breath, exhaling it in a short huff. His next words came out so softly that Kyle was just barely able to hear him. "I've, uh..." he hesitated. "I've sorta been, you know... working out lately..."

Kyle blinked in surprise, falling silent for a moment. What the fuck? Did he just hear that correctly? Cartman actually wanting to work out and get in shape? Now _that_ was extremely hard to believe. Cartman had always been, above everything else, a lazy son of a bitch, and despite the fact that he hated whenever other people called him fat, he never seemed to care about it enough to actually make an effort to lose the weight. Until now, apparently.

"Really?" Kyle asked incredulously.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Yes, _really_, Kahl."

"_You?_" Kyle asked, still unconvinced.

"Goddammit, shut up, Jew!" Cartman shouted, now regretting that he even told him in the first place.

Kyle paused again.

"Damn, dude, you really got it bad for Wendy, don't you?" he asked. He didn't exactly _need_ to ask it, though, since he already knew the answer.

Cartman's eyes widened, and it was at that moment, as his cheeks were quickly starting to heat up, that he suddenly felt so fucking glad that this was a phone conversation and that Kyle couldn't see him right now. Because if he could, he knew Kyle would just be ripping on him even more.

"Fuck you, Kahl," Cartman hissed, knowing that it didn't even make a difference what he said. He could practically _hear_ Kyle smirking on the other end.

"Whatever, dude," Kyle said in an amused tone. "That's pretty fucking pathetic."

Cartman froze, just about to defend himself, but then an evil smirk slowly made its way to his lips as he thought of something even better. "Says the guy who's been in love with Bebe Stevens since, what, ninth grade?" he asked condescendingly.

Kyle was the one who froze now. "No, not since the ninth grade!" he spat, his cheeks immediately flushing in embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cartman said with mock innocence and sincerity. "Eighth grade?"

Kyle gritted his teeth together. He felt like he was about to explode any second now, but he held it all in. He didn't feel like fighting with Cartman about this. It was none of his business, anyway.

"All right, dude," he sighed, reaching up and putting a hand to his forehead. He was feeling really exhausted all of a sudden. He just wanted Cartman to shut up and leave him alone already. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to keep Stan away from Wendy," Cartman said simply.

_'Oh, as if _that's_ fucking possible...'_ Kyle thought.

"Fine," he agreed.

"Good."

Kyle heard a click on the other end, followed by the sweet, soothing sound of absolutely nothing. He exhaled a long breath as he started heading back towards the entrance of the theater.

_'Fuck my life,'_ he thought bitterly, kicking at some snow on the sidewalk.

* * *

"So, um, how long are you in town?"

Wendy had met up with Stan in the theater lobby. They had ran into Kenny on their way out of the theater, and at that point, Kenny was ready to scream at Stan for making him wait so fucking long in the freezing ass cold. He was going to tell Stan that if his dick had frozen and fallen off, it'd be all _Stan's_ fault, but he stopped himself when he noticed Wendy standing there, and suddenly it all became clear to him. Instead of going off on Stan like he'd originally planned, Kenny had just nodded in understanding and playfully whispered to him, "Don't forget to use protection!" just as they were leaving.

The two of them were currently walking side by side, heading nowhere in particular. Their arms were at their sides, their hands slightly swinging back and forth as they walked. Their hands were practically swaying in unison, inching closer and closer together without either one of them realizing it. It was no wonder, then, that their hands eventually managed to bump into each other for a brief moment, their fingers brushing together in that split second. Stan looked down when it happened, his fingertips suddenly tickling with anticipation.

"Uh..." he said, trying not to sound distracted. "Three weeks."

Wendy glanced down as well, curious to see what Stan was staring so intently at. She smiled when she realized what it was, and, without stopping to think about it, she boldly reached for his hand, lacing her fingers into his. They looked up at each other, both smiling warmly. They continued walking like that, holding hands without saying anything for a while, but somehow, the silence between them didn't feel awkward. It just felt... nice.

"So," Wendy said after a while, "what's it like living in New York?"

"Oh, God, it's amazing," Stan said with new found excitement in his voice. "It's just filled with so much energy, and... oh my God, I can't even begin to describe it. But you'd love it, Wendy, seriously."

"I'm sure I would," she said. _'Anything would be better than living in this place and being fucking trapped like this.'_

"Yeah, you should come visit some time," Stan suggested, though it was really more of wishful thinking than an open invitation. He knew Wendy had her own life here. She was probably even busier than him, what with her starring role in the ballet and everything. He knew there was no way in hell that she'd be able to take time out of her hectic schedule to fly all the way out to New York to visit him_. _Still, it was worth a shot to at least mention it.

"Yeah, definitely. I would love that," Wendy said.

"Really?" Stan asked, in somewhat of a state of shock to hear her say that.

Wendy suddenly stopped walking then, right in the middle of the sidewalk. The action was so abrupt that Stan's arm was jerked backwards to where she'd just stopped. He quietly turned to face her, a confused look on his face.

"What?"

Her eyes were fixed to the ground. She had so much on her mind. She didn't even know _where_ to start. She started absentmindedly biting her lower lip, getting lost in her thoughts.

"What?" Stan repeated. "What's wrong?"

Wendy finally looked up at him, her brown eyes locking onto his blazing blue ones. _'Oh, nothing,' _she wanted to say,_ 'I just gave up my fucking freedom to a man who I can't fucking stand in exchange for the lead role in a ballet, that's all.'_

She diverted her gaze again, feeling absolutely disgusted with herself.

"Nothing, it's just..." she started, but her voice trailed off from there. She didn't even know what she was trying to say. Or what she even _wanted_ to say, for that matter. She simply stood there, not saying anything at all and just staring down at the ground.

"Hey," Stan said softly, reaching out with his free hand and carefully placing his thumb and index finger underneath her jaw.

His warm hand tickled Wendy's skin and immediately sent a rush of adrenaline throughout her body. The touch was soft and gentle, nothing at all like Cartman's touch. Whenever _he_ touched her, it was always so rough, so forced, like he was trying to prove his dominance over her through his manhandling. It was filled with aggression and hatred and passion all at the same time. She felt weak underneath his touch, her body always submitting to him without her having any control over it. This, though... this was entirely different. It was tender and comforting, and it almost made her feel secure, like she never wanted him to stop touching her like this. She felt a warm feeling inside her stomach as Stan slowly tilted her head up so that her eyes met his. She stared into his crystal clear blue eyes. They looked even brighter and icier against the black nighttime sky, but they were filled with nothing but warmth.

"Whatever's bothering you, you can tell me," Stan said, his finger stroking her chin lightly. "After all, we're friends, aren't we?"

Wendy felt her heart flutter in her chest, and in that moment, she seemed to completely forget about everything that was bothering her. She forgot about the rest of the world around her, focusing only on Stan and how kind he was treating her right now. She reached up and took his free hand into hers, entwining those fingers together as well.

"Why'd I ever break up with you, Stan?" she asked.

It was mostly a question for herself, though she never really did have a good enough answer for it. She had broken up with Stan after they had graduated high school, right around the time when they were just about to start college. She'd claimed that they'd both be better off, that they were going to meet lots of new people at their separate colleges, that they'd both be too busy with their own lives to see each other anymore and that, even if they _did_ keep dating, things wouldn't really be the same between them, and overall, that it just wouldn't work out for them in the end.

They seemed to be good enough reasons at the time, because all of that stuff _was_ true – for the most part, anyway. But right now... none of those reasons seemed good enough to her.

"U-Um, what?" Stan asked, completely caught off guard by the question.

Wendy looked him straight in the eyes, a suggestive smirk making its way across her face and a fiery twinkle sparking in her eyes. Stan blushed suddenly, his eyes widening and his breath shortening. He knew _that_ look, all too well, and it was making him feel really fucking nervous.

He knew what was going to happen next.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so effing long. I've had so much work lately at school (I'm an English major, so I constantly have papers to write), and also, well... that first scene with Cartman and Wendy took me _forever_ to write. I'm not even kidding; I literally spent weeks writing it.

Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait, though.


	4. The Phantom of the Opera

**Author's Note:** This is basically just a filler chapter. Some stuff happens, but...nothing too exciting, to be perfectly honest. XD

Don't worry, though, because the next chapter is going to be _a lot_ more interesting. You'll seeeee~ ;D

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Four: The Phantom of the Opera_

* * *

The sun peeked in from the window, its bright rays shining through it and lighting up the entire room. Stan cracked one eyelid open, followed slowly by the other. He squinted as his eyes adjusted themselves to the intense sunlight. He looked around at his surroundings – well, _her_ surroundings, really – in a daze, his blue eyes scanning the lavender walls of the bedroom and the rest of its sophisticated decor. It had a warm, mature atmosphere to it, and the room itself was so perfectly neat and tidy – aside, that is, from some clothing that had been thrown onto the floor last night in a moment of great passion.

After their nice little walk last night, Wendy had taken Stan back to her apartment, upstairs into her bedroom, where their clothes were eagerly torn off, their hands running all over every inch of each other's bodies, re-exploring places they had nearly forgotten over the years. They kissed each other hungrily, making up for all the years they had been apart. They got so caught up in the moment – the heat, the laughter, the undeniable desire – that they ended up sleeping together. It was an unspoken, spur-of-the-moment agreement. There were no questions asked, no 'are you sure we should be doing this?', no 'are you sure you _want_ to do this?', no 'don't you think this is kinda...well, maybe just this one last time...', no anything. Just a wild, crazy, lust-driven night.

And it was all just so..._amazing_. Stan couldn't have asked for anything better. Especially right now, as he was looking around her room, soaking in the warmth of the atmosphere, until his gaze finally landed on Wendy herself. She was lying right beside him, still sleeping peacefully. Her long black hair was sprawled out across her pillow, some of it covering her bare shoulders, while a few strands hung loosely around her pretty face. Her lips were parted slightly as she breathed in and out, slowly and quietly. Stan felt a familiar warm tickling feeling inside his stomach – it was those goddamn butterflies again, what else? – as he stared at her, silently watching her as she slept. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked, and it was at that exact moment that he felt his heart jump, the feelings suddenly hitting him all at once.

He was still in love with her. There was no doubt in his mind.

The realization caused him to blink in surprise. Fuck, dude. He was still in love with Wendy. Shit. That wasn't good. He couldn't be having these feelings for her again. He just couldn't. Because even if she did, hypothetically, feel the same way about him, and they decided to get back together, there was just no way in hell that it would ever be able to work out between them. She lived here in Colorado, and he lived all the way in New York. It would be impossible to maintain a long distance relationship, especially with their busy lives...

Well, it wouldn't necessarily be _impossible,_ but it would still be really difficult. And that would just suck.

Stan let out a quiet sigh, and on his own impulse, he leaned in towards Wendy, placing a soft, gentle kiss right on her lips. He stayed like that for a moment, his eyes closed as he pressed his lips gently against hers. When he pulled back, he opened his eyes to see her lips curving upward into a tiny smile. Her eyes slowly fluttered open to look at him. She exhaled happily, the smile on her face immediately widening.

"Hey," Wendy whispered playfully.

Stan returned the enormous grin. "Hey," he whispered back.

Wendy reached up, stretching both of her arms above her head and making an 'mmmm' type of sound before bringing them back down and slipping them underneath the covers. The sheets rustled around softly as she moved her body closer to Stan's, pressing her naked chest against his. She rested her head right underneath his chin, cuddling up to him. Stan slid his arm comfortably around her waist, pulling her in even closer to him. Oh, yeah. This felt nice. This felt...right. He missed this a lot. He decided to tell her just that.

"I really missed this," Stan mumbled sleepily, his eyes drifting shut again.

Wendy draped her arms over Stan's back, closing her eyes as well. "So did I," she confessed, her warm breath tickling his chest as she spoke.

Stan started stroking her back, his fingers running over her soft hair. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to slide his fingers through her hair, raking them slowly through her raven locks. He wished he could just hold onto this moment forever, with them lying together in bed like this, silently holding each other, and hearing nothing but the sounds of some birds chirping outside and their soft breathing. After a while, he stopped moving his hand, allowing it to simply rest against the middle of her back, his fingers still tangled in her hair. He could feel the warm feeling inside the pit of his stomach growing.

Yeah, he was definitely in love.

"So..." Stan spoke up after a while, deciding to try and start up a conversation. He paused as he tried to think of something to ask her, which was pretty hard, since he was completely distracted by the warmth of Wendy's body pressing against his. It was beginning to cloud his thoughts, but he tried his best to ignore it. "What time do you have to be back at the theater?" he finally settled on asking.

"Hmmm..." Wendy hummed against his chest, her fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. "Around four," she answered. "Why?"

Stan cleared his throat, finding himself starting to feel a little nervous. '_Goddammit,' _he cursed himself.

"Well," he started, his voice practically cracking as he tried to keep himself from sounding like a total idiot. It wasn't really working too well. "I was just thinking that maybe we could, uh...you know..."

Wendy smiled and let out a soft chuckle, the vibration of her body buzzing against Stan's chest. She slowly lifted her head off of his chest so she could look him in the eyes. "...Hang out?" she offered, a suggestive look crossing her face.

Stan could feel the blood rushing up to his cheeks as he stared back at her. "...Yeah," he answered hesitantly.

The suggestive grin on Wendy's face only grew wider as she leaned in a bit closer to him.

"Like a date?" she asked playfully, an eyebrow arched.

Stan's own eyebrows shot up. "W-Well, not, uh...I didn't mean–"

"Stan," Wendy suddenly cut him off. The teasing look on her face disappeared instantly, replacing itself with a much more serious look now. "Come on. It's me."

Stan blinked, somewhat taken aback by her sudden boldness. It's her. It's..._her._ The only girl he'd ever been in a serious relationship with. The only girl he'd ever slept with. The only girl he'd ever been in love with. And, of course, the only girl who'd ever broken his heart – many times.

He continued staring at her for a moment, his mind racing with all of those old memories of him and Wendy when they were together. When they were in high school and very much in love. When he gave her that promise ring, sealing their love for each other, and making that stupid promise that they'd be together forever...

Ugh. Damn these feelings.

"Okay, fine," Stan said, officially giving up. He couldn't help but smile then. "Like a date."

Wendy stared at him blankly for a split-second before breaking out into the biggest, most beautiful smile he'd ever seen from her in a long time. "I thought so," she said as she lowered her head back down, resting it on top of his bare chest once more. She felt Stan's other arm slink around her waist, wrapping perfectly around her body. She smiled wider, relaxing herself in his hold. He always knew just how to hold her. She loved the fact that they could cuddle like this without it being awkward, even after all these years and everything they'd been through together.

But for some reason, despite the fact that Wendy was feeling happy that she was with Stan right now, and that the way he was holding her so gently was practically melting her heart, and that last night was so undeniably _amazing_...there was still something else in the back of her mind that was bothering her.

Or some_one,_ really.

She felt a strange twinge in her heart then, and she absentmindedly tightened her fingers against her hand, her long fingernails digging into her palm. Her stomach dropped, and before she knew it, she found herself speaking again.

"Hey, Stan?"

There was a brief pause before Stan simply replied, "Yeah?"

Wendy clenched her fingers together even tighter, now fully aware that she was leaving tiny fingernail marks in her palm, but she didn't care. She bit down on her lower lip, her thoughts racing in her mind. Should she tell him? He'd be the first person to know if she did. She hadn't told anyone else about it yet. Not even Bebe. But what would Stan even say is she told him? Would he be pissed? Upset? Hurt?

She sighed, slowly unclenching her fingers.

"Never mind," she said in a meek voice.

It wasn't worth the risk. She would just be hurting him if she told him, so what the hell was the point?

"You sure?" Stan asked.

"Yeah, it's not important," Wendy lied, wishing more than anything that it really was the truth.

* * *

"Okay, here's the part I still don't get," Kenny said as he slammed his refrigerator door shut and walked over to Kyle, handing him a can of beer.

The two were currently at Kenny's house, having decided that it would just be easier to stay there for the night, since Kenny lived in Denver, and they didn't feel like driving all the way back to Kyle's house.

Kenny's house was surprisingly larger than Kyle's, although it definitely didn't have that same appealing look to it. There were nasty dishes in the sink and random clothes all over the floor of Kenny's living room – Kyle wasn't even sure if they were Kenny's clothes. He'd swore he saw a bright blue bra hanging on the couch when he walked in last night.

Not to mention, the jet black counters and cabinets in the kitchen seriously clashed with the neon orange walls. That just looked tacky.

Kyle watched as Kenny cracked open his beer can and took a long swig from it, gulping it down noisily.

"And what's that?" Kyle asked, fiddling with the can in his hands. He never really liked beer. He was more of a wine kind of guy. It was much classier.

Kenny slammed his beer can down on his black marble counter. Without a coaster.

"You and Cartman are seriously fucking _friends _now?" he asked for probably the fifth time that day. He just couldn't bring himself to believe it, even after Kyle explained everything to him last night. Kyle didn't want to do it, of course, but Kenny somehow forced it out of him, so Kyle ended up telling him pretty much everything, about how Cartman lived in some crappy apartment in South Park, and that he and Kyle saw each other every once in a while, and that they pretty much talked all the time now.

Kyle rolled his eyes for the fifth time that day. "Yes, dude, we're seriously fucking friends now," he said in an annoyed tone.

Kenny stared at him with a blank expression on his face. "But...isn't he the same manipulative asshole who always rips on you for being a Jew?" he asked.

"Well, he's..." Kyle began, but he suddenly paused, deciding to actually ponder the question for a moment. Well, technically Cartman _was_ still a manipulative asshole...and he did still call Kyle 'Jew' sometimes...but that didn't mean he hadn't changed. He _was_ pretty different now...sort of...not really.

Huh.

"Look, dude," Kyle started again, placing his unopened beer can next to Kenny's on the counter. He wasn't going to drink it. "It's hard to explain, but...I don't know, we really are friends now. He's...matured, I guess you can say, since high school."

Kenny shrugged. "Whatever, dude," he said, reaching for his beer again. "I just can't believe you two are actually fucking friends. That shit seems impossible." He brought the can up to his mouth, about to take another sip, when he stopped himself, an interesting thought suddenly popping into his head. "Hey, wait, you guys aren't secretly dating or something, are you?"

Kyle froze. What?

"...Dude, are you retarded?" he asked, somewhat jokingly, but not really.

"Well, it kinda makes sense," Kenny said, still being completely serious. "Like maybe you're just using your crush on Bebe as a cover-up, when really, you and Cartman are, like...fuck buddies."

Kyle's jaw dropped. "_Dude!_" he shrieked in horror. "Don't you _ever_ refer to me and Cartman as 'fuck buddies' _ever _again!"

Kenny held up a hand defensively, the other still clutching his beer can. "Look, I was just saying that–"

"WE'RE _NOT_ FUCK BUDDIES, IDIOT!" Kyle shouted, interrupting Kenny before he even had the chance to further explain himself.

"Well then how come he's always calling you and asking you to do him favors or whatever the fuck you said?" Kenny asked.

Kyle groaned. Again with these annoying fucking questions. It never ended with Kenny. "I can't tell you that," he said, which unfortunately for him, only spiked Kenny's interest that much more.

"Why not?" the blonde asked, his eyes practically lighting up. He knew it must've been something good if it had to be kept a secret.

"Because Cartman would kill me if he found out that I told you," Kyle said bluntly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Well, at the very least, he'd be super pissed. That much was true.

"Oh, come on, just fucking tell me," Kenny prodded. "The fatass ain't here."

Kyle stared at him silently for a few seconds before finally letting out a long sigh. Why did Kenny have to be so goddamn persistent?

"All right, I'll tell you, but you gotta promise me you _won't_ tell anyone else," Kyle said, his voice practically falling to a whisper as he added, "Especially not Stan."

Kenny's light blue eyes _really_ lit up then. They were shimmering with excitement as Kyle stared at him, instantly regretting what he'd just said. He scowled as Kenny flashed him a mischievous smile.

"Especially not Stan, huh?" Kenny echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, deal."

Kyle let out another sigh. Well, he really had no choice now, did he? Bastard. "Okay–" he began, but he suddenly silenced himself when he heard his cell phone ringing. Oh, thank God.

"Aww, come on!" Kenny whined, watching as Kyle picked up his cell phone from the counter to see who was calling him. "Goddammit, Kyle, just tell whoever the fuck it is that you'll call them back!"

Kyle ignored his request, however, and flipped open his cell phone anyway, grinning as he put it to his ear. "Hey, Bebe," he greeted cheerfully.

And just like that, Kenny's sour mood instantly melted away. His ears perked up as he propped his elbows up on his counter and rested his chin in his hands. He leaned in a bit, preparing himself to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"...Yeah, I know, Kenny told me," Kyle said, briefly making eye contact with the blonde, who simply raised his eyebrows at him in a suggestive manner. Kyle lowered his, giving Kenny a quick glare before simply looking away from him again. "Well, what do you expect? You know how those two are."

The smirk on Kenny's face began to fade a little. Shit, this wasn't a very interesting conversation like he was hoping it'd be. It was pretty fucking boring, actually. Kyle definitely needed some help if he ever wanted to get anywhere with Bebe...

Looking down, Kenny reached for an old receipt lying on his counter and picked up a chewed up pencil. He started scribbling something on the paper, still listening intently to everything Kyle was saying.

Kyle let out a small laugh. "I know," he said in an amused voice. "You're right, they probably are."

Kenny smiled to himself as he read over his note. He quietly set the pencil down and held up the receipt, hoping to get Kyle's attention with it.

"Listen, I..." Kyle started, his voice trailing off when he looked at the receipt and read what it said. His eyes widened, and without saying a word, he reached up and smacked Kenny's arm. Kenny flinched, giving Kyle a 'what'd I do?!' type of look as he put a hand on his arm.

"Sorry," Kyle said, finally turning his back towards Kenny so he couldn't distract him anymore. "No, no, it was just...never mind. Well, anyway, I was gonna say that you were really awesome in the ballet last night." He didn't have to turn around to know that Kenny was probably smirking like crazy now. "Oh, come on, you were the best one there...Yeah, I wanted to tell you last night, but...oh, you were? Shit, I didn't know that. I would've waited longer then..." Kyle paused then, and at that point, Kenny gave up on trying to make out what Bebe was saying on the other line. "Yeah, totally...Okay, cool, I'll see you then. Bye, Bebe." He brought the phone away from his ear and closed it, waiting a few seconds before whipping around to look at his sick, sick friend. "Dude, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?!"

"What?!" Kenny asked defensively. "What's so bad about what I wrote?"

Kyle blinked. "What's so _bad?!"_ he exploded, hastily reaching for the note on the counter. He cleared his throat and read it: "Damn, baby, you looked so fucking sexy in your leotard. I totally wanted to honk your boobs." There was a brief, awkward pause as Kyle just stared at the note, his eyebrows furrowed. He finally looked up at Kenny, expecting to hear a good explanation from him.

"...I don't see what's so wrong about that," Kenny said honestly. "It's a compliment."

"You're disgusting," Kyle said, crumpling up the receipt and tossing the tiny ball of paper at Kenny. It bounced off his head and landed on the floor.

"Oh, shut up," Kenny retorted, starting to get fed up with Kyle's bullshit. "You know you were totally thinking it."

"Um, no, not really," Kyle said bluntly. "I'm not a sick pervert like you, Kenny."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man," he said, deciding to let it go and somewhat change the subject. "You were still totally flirting with her."

_"What?"_ Kyle said, completely taken aback. "I was not–"

"Yeah," Kenny interrupted. "You were. Seriously, Kyle, why do you keep fucking denying everything? God, you're worse than Cartman."

Kyle froze again. What the hell did _that_ mean? "What, uh..." he said with new found uncertainty in his voice. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Kyle," Kenny said in the most dead serious tone Kyle had ever heard from him. There wasn't even the slightest hint of amusement in his voice, which was very, _very_ rare for Kenny. It was more than enough to get Kyle's full attention, and even scare him a little bit. "Do you really think I don't know? Seriously, I'm not an idiot. I know Cartman wants to bang Wendy. He's wanted to since high school."

Kyle just kept staring at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So...wait...let me get this straight," he started, his mind trying to put all the pieces together. "You knew this _whole_ time?"

"Yeah," Kenny answered simply.

"But...how?" Kyle asked.

Kenny couldn't help but grin then. "Dude, it's me," he said, his usual playful demeanor returning once more. "I've slept with enough chicks to know when another guy wants to fuck one of 'em. Plus, Cartman made it super fucking obvious...I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if Stan knew all along and just never said anything about it."

Kyle just had to comment on that one. "But, dude..._you_ knew all along and never said anything about it," he pointed out.

Kenny grinned wider. "So did you," he countered.

Kyle's jaw dropped. Fuck, how the hell did he _know_ that?!

"Dude, shut up, that's different!" Kyle said defensively. "I promised Cartman, and...oh, whatever, don't try to turn this back around on me!"

"Holy shit, chill out, Kyle," Kenny said as he gave Kyle's shoulder a light shove. "I'm just messing with you."

Kyle brought up his hand, throwing a soft punch back at Kenny. "I really fucking hate you, dude," he said in the nicest way he possibly could.

"Aww," Kenny said, now reaching out with both arms and wrapping them around Kyle's body. "I love you, too, darling~"

Kyle smiled, wrapping his own arms around Kenny on instinct. "Dude, this is really gay, Kenny."

Kenny chuckled. "Yeah, you're right," he said as he pulled away from him. "We should stop. After all, you can't be cheating on Cartman now, can you?"

Kyle smiled again, and he even joined in with Kenny as he started to laugh.

* * *

The stage was set with its same lavish scenery from last night's performance, and once again, it was very chaotic backstage. Everyone was running around, either adjusting their costumes, or trying to find bobby pins to put in their hair, or putting some last-minute touch ups on their makeup.

"PEOPLE!" the frazzled director shouted, his thinning gray hair looking especially frizzy tonight. He pushed up his thick framed glasses that were perched on his nose as he flipped through a script in his hands. "Where are my ballerinas?!" he screamed, throwing one of his hands in the air and pressing it against his forehead. He was feeling extremely stressed out for pretty much no reason at all. "Dammit, people, work with me here!" He looked up from his script, watching as everyone started quickly clearing the aisles, the ballerinas lining up to take their places on stage. The director exhaled loudly, feeling a tiny bit calmer. "All right, good, good... Now where's Wend–"

He was abruptly cut off by a large hand that came out of nowhere from behind him, violently clasping over his mouth. The director immediately screamed into the hand, frantically trying to jerk away, but he failed to do that as he felt another hand promptly come up, grabbing tightly onto his shoulder. Before he knew what was happening, he was being dragged away into some random dressing room. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs the entire way there, his loud, muffled cries of "HELP!" coming out of his mouth along the way but going completely unnoticed. He suddenly heard a door slam shut, and the pressure on his shoulder finally loosened as he was let go. He fell to his knees, coughing and shaking.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" the frazzled director screamed, looking up at his kidnapper, a man with unkempt brown hair, dressed in a long, black coat. "Who the fuck are y–"

"Shut up," Cartman said, his voice low and gruff. The director blinked in surprise as he continued, "I need to talk to you about Wendy."

The director raised his eyebrows. "...Wendy Testaburger?" he asked, shuffling around a bit so that he was now sitting on the floor rather than kneeling on it, feeling too afraid to actually stand up.

"That's right," Cartman said as he started approaching the director, who simply sat there, staring up at him, since he was too scared to even move a muscle. When he reached him, he stopped and slowly crouched down to meet him at eye level. "I'd like to make a deal with you," he said in a sly tone. "Let's talk, shall we?"

* * *

The entire audience was once again flourishing in a loud, enthusiastic applause after yet another successful performance. The ballerinas curtseyed on stage for a while until the curtains finally closed, the sounds of people clapping and whistling eventually quieting down. Everyone backstage all hugged one another, congratulating each other on yet another job well done. After giving each of her fellow ballerinas a hug, Bebe broke away from that group and rushed over to Wendy.

"Oh my God!" she squealed in excitement. "That was even better than last night's performance!"

"It was!" Wendy agreed, a huge smile on her face as she gave her best friend a big hug. "You did an amazing job, Bebe."

"Aww, you were even _more_ amazing," Bebe said with a grin on her face as well. "Come on, we have to celebrate! Let's go out!"

Wendy couldn't help but giggle. "Sure, sounds like fun," she said, unable to take the grin off her face.

Bebe brought her hands up and rapidly clapped them together. "Yay!" she exclaimed. "Okay, so I just have to get changed first. You wanna just meet outside in like a half hour?"

"Okay," Wendy said. "I have to change, too, anyway."

"All right," Bebe said as she turned to leave. "See you in a few, girl!"

They both waved at each other before heading off towards their respective dressing rooms.

* * *

Wendy stared at herself in the mirror, looking herself up and down. She had changed out of her costume and was now wearing a black cocktail dress that hugged her body snugly, showing off her slim figure. Her long hair was perfectly straightened, looking even silkier and shinier than it normally looked. She had also re-applied most of her makeup, a fresh coat of dark cherry red lipstick, some black mascara, a bit of smoky, silvery eye shadow...

She looked fucking _hot. _Even more so than usual.

"The fuck are you all dressed up for, Wendy?" _he_ asked.

Wendy froze, her heart nearly stopping in her chest as she turned around and looked up, and sure enough, there he was, staring down at her from the opening in the vent. She stared back up at him with those gorgeous brown eyes of hers, crossing her skinny arms over her chest.

"What now, Cartman?" Wendy asked impatiently.

He dropped to the floor, landing with his usual loud crash.

"Ow," he mumbled to himself, hoping she didn't actually hear him say that. He slowly pushed himself off the floor and stood up. "Where are you going?" he asked as he started walking up to her.

Wendy rolled her eyes. Those stupid, beautiful eyes of hers... "Why should I have to tell you?" she asked. "It's none of your fucking business."

Ah, so she was going to put up a fight with him again? God, what a stubborn little...

He stopped a mere several inches in front of her, but she luckily didn't back away from him. He leaned in close to her face, their noses practically brushing together.

"I believe..." he began in his low, seductive voice, his eyelids slowly drifting down until they stopped halfway. "I told you to be here when I got back last night..." He watched as Wendy cringed a bit, her eyes widening slightly in that sexy, defenseless way that they always did whenever he was this close to her. "...or else," he finished with a smirk. Then, without saying another word, he took her by the arm and started walking towards the vent, completely ignoring her protests as he pulled her along with him.

Oh, this was going to be fun.


	5. Music of the Night

**Author's Note:** Out of all the songs from this musical, I'd have to say that _Music of the Night_ is probably my favorite. I mean, I love all the songs (honestly, the music is the whole reason why I love this play so much. I've already seen it on Broadway twice, and I'd like to see it again someday), but the melody for this particular song is just so beautiful, and the lyrics are so powerful and emotional... It gives me chills every time I hear it.

Anyway, you may or may not have noticed that the rating for this story has been changed to M. And that's because, yes, this chapter contains a sex scene. *gasp* XD This was actually my first time ever writing a lemon, so hopefully I did a good job with it...

(Oh, also, I guess this is a warning: this chapter contains a spoiler from episode 201.)

All right, I'll shut up now and let you read it. Enjoyyyy. ;)

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Five: Music of the Night_

* * *

"Dammit, Mr. Fluffy Kitty!" Cartman shouted as a small black kitten came scampering out into the hallway the second he opened the door to his apartment. Wendy, who was standing behind him, watched as the kitten ran right past both of them and stopped when it reached a wall. It plopped itself down there, its long, fluffy tail moving back and forth. Wendy couldn't help but smile as she walked over to the small animal and crouched down. It meowed softly as she carefully picked it up with both hands, holding it close to her body as she walked back over to Cartman.

"Mr. Fluffy Kitty?" Wendy said with a hint of amusement in her voice as she handed the kitten over to Cartman. He slowly took it from her, putting a hand on top of its head and stroking it lightly.

"Yes," was all he said as he turned his back to her and walked inside. Wendy followed closely behind him, her high heels clacking against the hardwood floor with each step. Cartman flipped on the light switch as he entered his fairly empty and plain-looking apartment. He quickly made his way across the room, stopping near his torn up futon couch. Wendy closed the door behind her and just stood there for a moment, watching quietly as Cartman set the kitten down on the couch and pet its back, mumbling something to it that she couldn't quite make out. The kitten curled itself up, its dark fur blending in with the black couch. And Cartman's long, black coat.

His long, black coat...

"Okay, can I ask you something?" Wendy randomly blurted out, not even stopping to wait for him to reply as she asked, "Why the _fuck_ do you always wear that coat?"

Cartman blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. _What? _ He slowly turned around, giving Wendy a confused look, as though his mind was trying to comprehend the question. He understood her, of course. He wasn't a retard. He just didn't understand why the fuck she was asking him that. Seriously, his _coat?_ Who the fuck gave a shit if he always wore the same coat all the time?

He sauntered over to Wendy, the confused look on his face slowly turning into a fiercer, more intimidating one. He stopped right in front of her, once again leaning in dangerously close to her face. "None of your goddamn business," he said coldly, his eyes flashing with anger.

Then, without any warning, he pushed her roughly into the wall, her back hitting against it with a loud slam. She let out a short groan of pain once she hit it, but he promptly shut her up by covering her mouth with his own. He pressed his lips against hers so abruptly that she immediately choked from the lack of air. He heard the strangled gasp and pulled away for only a moment, allowing her to take a much-needed deep breath before he kissed her again, a little less harshly this time. He pressed his lips deeply into hers, and a few seconds went by before he finally felt her starting to kiss back.

He reached up and slapped his hands against the wall, trapping her in that little corner as the kissing between them was quickly becoming more and more intense. His tongue was now rolling around inside her mouth, licking up her taste. He felt her tongue starting to push back, wrestling his for dominance. She moved it around back and forth, trying to dodge his massive tongue from brushing against hers, though she was losing that battle miserably as he continued twisting and curling his tongue skillfully around hers. He suddenly felt the touch of her cold hands clasp onto his neck, and as she was wrapping her arms around it, he slowly dragged his hands down the wall and moved them onto her body. He ran them all over her torso, trying his best not to miss a single inch. He slid them across her shoulders, down to her breasts, her stomach, moving them far down and then back up again. His hands were pressing into her skin, which was quickly becoming slick with her own sweat.

He could feel her leg sliding up his own as she lifted it off the ground and wrapped it around both of his legs like a snake. He felt her thigh clenching tightly against his hip as she brought her leg up even further until it was slinked perfectly around his waist, trapping him now in her own hold. His heart was racing, practically beating out of his chest as he placed his hands on top of her shoulders. Their heated kissing was gradually softening and slowing down a bit, their upper lips now flush against each other while he started sucking lightly on her bottom lip, just to experiment and tease her. He listened as she moaned sensually into his mouth, the sound causing his hormones to flare up even more.

He had never been so fucking turned on in his life.

Her high-heeled shoe started digging into the side of his leg, rubbing up and down his pants and scraping at his skin beneath the material. He abruptly broke the kiss, his lips tearing away from hers with a loud smack. They were both panting ferociously, their chests heaving in and out. He stared at her, noticing a tiny bit of sweat that was licking at her forehead and glistening on her chest. Without saying a word, he scooped her up in his arms bridal style, carrying her up the stairs that led to his bedroom. Once he was inside, he kicked the door shut and kissed her again, still holding her in his arms. The kiss didn't last very long, though, since she pulled away from him almost instantly.

"Put me down," she demanded, and he did, not because he wanted to, but because he kinda had to, since he could tell by the tone in her voice that she was pretty pissed off. He watched as she straightened out her dress a little bit before locking eyes with him again. "You know," she said as she reached up to cup his face in one of her hands. "I wish you'd fucking shave this thing." She ran her hand across his cheek, growing more annoyed by the prickly feeling of his dark facial hair that scraped against her palm. "I feel like I'm making out with a cactus."

He just stared at her, an incredulous look on his face.

"...And your point is?" he asked as he quickly leaned in, picking up where they left off by forcing his lips on hers again. She rolled her eyes before squeezing them shut, suddenly having no desire to fight with him anymore. Her other hand instinctively came up to cup the other side of his face as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close to him. Their bodies banged together, and a low moan escaped from his throat as the kiss started to deepen.

They broke apart after a while to catch their breaths, both panting noisily as they simultaneously let go of each other. He was staring right at her, and she was staring back at him with a mischievous look on her face. Her mouth was hanging open slightly as she breathed in and out deeply, and her eyes were half-lidded, gleaming like he'd never seen before. She looked like a tiger. A wild, _sexy_ tiger ready to pounce on him and tear him to shreds.

She fucking wanted it. Oh, yeah, she wanted it _bad._

And he was going to give it to her. Hard. Because Lady Gaga had it totally fucking right...

_And baby when it's love, if it's not rough, it isn't fun._

Oh yeah. It was gonna be rough.

They smirked at each other as they both leaned in, closing their eyes as their lips reattached in another passionate kiss. She could feel his scruffy beard scratching against her face again, although she didn't seem to care about that at all right now as she pushed her lips even deeper into his. Their mouths began harshly opening and closing against each other, when slowly, very slowly, she reached up and placed her hands on top of his broad shoulders. She kept them there for only a moment before deciding to move them down. She grabbed onto the outside of his coat roughly and started pushing it off of him. He brought his hand up and helped her out by pulling the long coat off his arms, letting it to fall to the floor with a soft swish of the fabric. He then slipped his arm around her and placed his hand right on the center of her back, where the zipper of her dress was located. His fingers were trembling as he fumbled with the tiny plastic zipper, but he eventually grasped onto it firmly with his thumb and index finger. He slowly pulled his hand down, the zipper making a low noise as it slid open until it reached the bottom of her dress. He let go, the strap of her dress immediately falling off her shoulder.

She tore her lips away from his again, her hands sliding down his body and stopping when they reached the bottom hem of his long-sleeved red shirt. She tugged on it lightly, looking him right in the eyes, a playful smirk on her face as she carefully started lifting the shirt with both hands. He felt his heart pounding wildly as she lifted it higher and higher, until his entire stomach was exposed. Then, in one fluid motion, she pulled the shirt over his head, his sleeves sliding right off his arms, now exposing his entire upper body. She tossed the shirt onto the floor, her eyes locking onto his bare abs and immediately widening in shock.

Were those..._muscles_ she was looking at?

She tentatively reached out, touching his chest curiously. He shivered when she touched him, her icy cold finger tips running slowly up and down his chest. She played with the wisps of his chest hair, twirling a single slender finger around them before slowly pulling away. Her arm dropped to her side, causing the other strap of her dress to slide off her shoulder and onto her arm.

He looked right at her shoulders, his gaze fixed on her bra straps. He hesitantly put his hands on her waist and started rubbing them up and down, hugging the curves of her body. Her black satin dress was gradually sliding down with the motion, slowly revealing more of her light purple bra. His eyes widened, and he immediately let go of her, his hands shooting back to his own body in an instant. She blinked, a confused look on her face for a moment, but she seemed to get over it as she put her hands on her hips, pushing the dress off herself. His eyes moved downward, watching her small hands, watching as the dress moved off her body, revealing her flat stomach, her tight, perfect legs, and her lacy purple underwear. He felt his heart skip a beat, and he gulped, his eyes nearly popping out of his head as he simply gaped at her half-naked body in amazement.

She was even more gorgeous than he'd imagined.

His eyes followed her as she stepped out of her black dress, leaving it in a crumpled mess on the floor as she bent down to take off her matching black heels. He simply stood there, watching her, completely dumbstruck over how drop-dead fucking sexy she looked, when he suddenly snapped out of his daze and knelt down to take off his shoes as well. Once he was done, he looked back up to see her staring right at him, a mischievous grin on her face. He continued staring at her, mentally preparing himself for all the things he was about to do to her.

She didn't give him much time to think, however, because the next thing he knew, she was aggressively pushing him down onto his bed. His back flopped against it with a soft creak of the mattress, and he watched with wide eyes as she climbed on top of him, straddling his entire lower body with her long legs. He grunted as she leaned down and kissed him hard on the lips without any warning, causing him to let out a stifled moan out of both surprise and pleasure. He clamped his eyes shut and kissed her back with all the strength he had, which wasn't much, since her body was now crushing his, making it harder for him to breathe. His eyes suddenly shot open when he felt her reaching down and groping for his belt. She gripped onto it tightly and started unfastening it as quickly as she could. Her hands undid the links with great skill and ease, all the while her lips never leaving his as she continued kissing him hungrily. She pulled the belt out of the tiny loops on his pants. It glided out so fast that it nearly whipped him as she pulled it off completely and tossed it on the ground with the rest of their discarded clothing.

Once the belt was off, she tore her lips away from his, momentarily focusing all of her attention on getting his pants off. She unbuttoned them and proceeded to start working on the zipper. He felt a rush of blood travel throughout his body, although most of it was traveling further down. Much, much further down. Right at the spot where her hand was currently moving to unzip his zipper. He could feel his pants tightening uncomfortably with the motion, though luckily for him, the pain didn't last long, since the zipper was now entirely undone. He reached down with his own hands, latching onto hers and pushing his pants down along with her. He kicked them to the floor, now wearing nothing but his dark red boxers with dozens of small white hearts designed on them. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as her hands moved back up to rest on top of his chest. She leaned down, her lips forcefully crushing against his again. He could feel himself hardening even more as he licked and nibbled on her lips. Things were really starting to heat up between them, and he was so caught up in the moment that it took him this long to suddenly realize something rather obvious: _she_ was lying on top of _him._

_'Fuck this,'_ he thought as he started lifting his head off his pillow, their lips still mashing together as he placed his hands on her shoulders to help pull himself up. She gave in to what he was trying to do, allowing him to flip their positions. He pushed himself down on top of her, smiling against her lips in satisfaction. Oh, yeah. _He_ was the one on top again. Literally. He was the one who was going to be in total control now. There was no way in hell that he was going to let her have anymore control over him. No fucking way. She was _his_ bitch, not the other way around.

He kept his hands on top of her shoulders, squeezing them a bit as he continued moving his lips against hers. The kissing between them was becoming sloppier, their mouths still opening and closing every once in a while and their tongues still pushing at each other, trying to claim dominance. While they were kissing, she couldn't help but wonder why his hands weren't moving anywhere and simply staying on her shoulders. She was expecting his hands to be running up and down her body, touching every part of her. That's how it was with Stan. He knew all the right places to touch her. That was expected, though, since he'd dated her for such a long time and had inevitably become so in tune to her body, just as she had with his.

But_ t__his_ was going to be a completely different experience.

Deciding to help him out, she reached up, carefully placing her hand on top of his. She felt his hand relax itself in hers as she pulled it off her shoulder and brought it lower, guiding it down her body and stopping when she reached her stomach. It took him a few seconds to figure out what the fuck she was doing, but he eventually got the hint and abruptly broke the kiss. They both immediately gasped for air, their eyes locking onto one another as they struggled to breath properly. He stared down at her, right into her beautiful brown eyes, which were sparkling with something that could only be described as lust.

He lowered his head again and began pressing his lips onto her neck. She let out a faint moan as he kissed it several times before moving his mouth a little lower, kissing along the length of her neck as he moved down near her chest. His soft, warm lips pressed all over her body as he continued moving even lower, finally stopping at her stomach. He glanced up at her briefly with a determined look on his face, one that read 'I'm gonna make sure you fucking enjoy this.'

And with that, he bent his head back down, pressing one more light kiss to her stomach before opening his mouth. His moist tongue flicked out against her stomach. He slowly licked it, enjoying the taste of her hot, sweaty skin. He heard her moan again, a bit louder this time, and he internally smirked to himself. _'Oh, yeah, she fucking likes this.'_ He wanted to keep hearing her moan, since the sound was turning him on that much more. He moved the tip of his tongue across her lower abdomen, where he finally dipped it into her belly button, and the second he did, she let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a high-pitched squeak and a short, quick giggle.

Oh, fuck yes. That was hot.

He continued swirling his tongue around inside her belly button, trying to get her to make that noise again. He felt her body vibrate underneath him as she let out another giggle. He pushed his tongue in deeper, causing her to let out a loud cry of delight. He let out his own deep, stifled moan once he heard it, his open mouth still pressing closely against her skin. Oh, _God,_ he wanted her so fucking badly. He started rubbing his groin against hers, his large fingers trailing up her stomach and onto her chest. Her back arched upward from the touch, her hips pushing back at his. He suddenly lifted his head to look up at her again. She looked down at him, her eyes meeting his for only a moment before they traveled down even further to gape at the tent he was currently pitching in his boxers. Her eyes flashed back up to meet his gaze.

"Take them off," she commanded in a seductive tone.

He stared at her for a few seconds, dead silent and completely motionless, an inquisitive look forming on his face. He abruptly sat up then, narrowing his eyes at her.

"You first," he said, reaching down to give her bra strap a teasing pull. It flung back to her chest noisily as he let go of it.

She sat up without any hesitation, her hands immediately reaching around behind her back. She looked him right in the eyes, not wanting to miss the look on his face for a second as she unhooked her bra, the straps loosening around her shoulders. She pulled one arm out of the strap, followed by the other, switching hands in the process in order to hold the cups up to keep her breasts covered. She didn't take her eyes off of him as she slowly took the bra away, finally exposing her breasts as she threw her bra carelessly on the floor. She smirked as she watched his eyes instantly drop to stare at her naked chest.

He wasted no time in reaching out to grab one of her small, supple breasts in his large hand. She didn't flinch, or move, or even try to stop him at all as he squeezed it in between his fingers, the soft, squishy feeling of the fleshy skin making him feel even hornier than he already was. He started kneading her breast in his hand like dough, moving himself closer to her and placing his free hand on top of her other breast. He pressed his hand against it, applying more and more pressure as he moved in even closer. He didn't bother looking up at her to seek some kind of permission – seriously, fuck that; he didn't need this bitch's goddamn permission – as he removed his hand and bent his head down, taking her breast into his mouth. His tongue shot out, brushing over her nipple only once before he brought it back into his mouth. He started sucking on her nipple, listening to her as she let out that sexy squeal again.

He used his fingers to massage her other breast. His thumb traced the sensitive skin around her nipple, making circular motions, all the while he was still sucking on her nipple, a bit harder now. She felt goose bumps arise over her skin as his fingers lightly grazed over her erect light pink nipple. Then, without any warning whatsoever, he bit down hard on the tip of her nipple with his teeth, causing her to let out a deafening scream out of both pleasure and pain.

"AHHHH, w-what the FUCK?" she stuttered, his hand still tickling her other nipple. "You...ahh–AAAAH!" she howled as he roughly pinched that same nipple. "You fucking asshole!"

His mouth was still pressed against her breast as he gave her nipple one last affectionate stroke with his tongue before finally pulling himself away from her. He moved his head back up to meet her at eye level as he brought his hands back down to his sides.

"Oh, what?" he asked mockingly, an evil smirk growing on his face. "Did I _hurt_ you?"

She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it in a drawn out sigh. She had an annoyed look on her face, her eyebrows low and her mouth in a harsh frown as she reached up with one hand, cautiously touching her sore nipple. She closed her eyes, wincing at the throbbing pain and releasing a short hiss from her lips. She opened her eyes, fixing them on him, the frown on her face somehow turning into a smirk.

"Actually..." she started, that same hand reaching out and snaking around his neck as she pulled him in close. He felt his stomach flutter uncomfortably as she moved her mouth dangerously close to his ear. "I kinda liked it," she whispered seductively, her breath, hot and bothersome, hitting against his ear and sending a sharp chill down his spine.

Oh, _fuck._

She placed her other hand on top of his hairy, muscular chest and slid it across one of his nipples teasingly. She moved her hand further sideways until it momentarily landed on one of his biceps. She stopped there, her curiosity suddenly getting the better of her as she gave his bicep a strong squeeze. It felt like a rock, having no resistance whatsoever against her slim fingers. She looked up at him, finding herself unable to take her hand off his bicep.

"Have you been working out?" she asked point-blank.

At that exact moment, he swore he felt his heart stop beating.

She...actually fucking _noticed?_

He desperately tried to maintain his composure, swallowing hard as he felt his mouth go completely dry. He sheepishly nodded his head in response, finding it impossible to actually speak.

She just kept staring at him with an astounded look on her face, unsure if she should be impressed or shocked, since she was pretty much feeling both. She slowly brought her hand back to the center of his chest and gradually began running it down his body, working her way down his stomach, down his lower abdomen, and finally stopping right at the hem of his boxers. Her eyes flickered up at him briefly before falling back down again. Without saying a word, she slid her hand past the waistband of his boxers, dipping it right inside them and grasping hungrily at his manhood.

"AHHH, FUCK, WENDY!" he shouted, completely unready for her bold touch as his hips jumped up into her hand on their own accord.

She smirked as she curled her fingers around his erection, slowly gliding her hand upward, stroking along the length of his shaft. He tried to restrain himself from letting out a long, obnoxious moan, but it was no use. He moaned rather loudly, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head as her hand started rubbing him up and down ever so slowly, teasing the fuck out of him.

Mother. _Fucker!_

It felt so fucking good. And it was only her fucking _hand._

She gave him one last unbelievably long, pleasurable stroke before pulling her hand out of his boxers_._

"You liked that?" she asked mischievously, staring at him with the sexiest look on her face that he'd _ever_ fucking seen in his entire life.

That was it. He couldn't control himself any longer. He had to have her _now._ Acting out on his utmost desire, he gripped onto her panties with both hands, not even stopping to think as he yanked them down in one full swoop. He quickly pulled them off her legs and tossed them somewhere behind him, a rush of adrenaline kicking in as he pushed her back down onto his bed. He looked at her entrance for a split-second before slipping his thick finger right into her, the action earning a loud yelp from her as he immediately began sliding his finger back and forth inside her.

"AAAAAHH! Oh, God, FUCK!" she screamed, her hands reaching up to clutch fistfuls of his messy brown hair.

He started moving his finger up and down more vigorously, pumping it in and out. He could feel her tight, wet walls clenching around his finger as he pushed it in deeper, trying to find her sensitive spot. She let out a powerful, dragged out moan as he added another finger, pushing it in deeply to meet his other one. His other hand slid in between her legs, playfully massaging one of her inner thighs. Her back arched up off the bed as she moaned again.

"Oh, GOD!" she shouted uncontrollably, pulling on his hair even harder as he continued to finger her energetically. She was writhing and squirming beneath him, desperately trying to hold herself together, but it was no use. She couldn't take it anymore. "Ah–AHH! Shit, Cartman, just _fuck_ me already!"

He immediately stopped what he was doing, eyes blinking up to look at her as he slowly pulled his fingers out of her. She took that as an opportunity to let go of his hair and throw her hands onto his boxers, pushing them off of him as far down as she physically could before he had to do the rest. She watched intently as he pulled the boxers off his legs, grabbed them with one hand, and threw them forcefully across the room. She gazed down at his member and instantly felt her heart leap up to her throat.

He was bigger than Stan.

Her heart was pumping wildly in her chest as she gawked at him in sheer astonishment. It was her first time ever seeing another man's penis before. Up until this point, she had only seen Stan's. She had seen his so many times that seeing someone else's was enough to make her feel a bit nervous and uneasy. She tried her best not to appear freaked out by it, though, as she hesitantly touched him again, eliciting a faint moan out of him as she ran her hand gingerly up his length. She could feel herself beginning to relax as all of her thoughts seemed to melt away until she was focusing on one thing and one thing only.

"Come on," she breathed, her eyes darkening with lust as they shot up to look at him. "Do it."

He blinked, eyes immediately darting away to avoid her gaze. "I-I, uh..." he stammered nervously, feeling his face getting hotter. He mentally slapped himself. _'Fuck!'_

She stared up at him with a confused look on her face. "What?" she asked, her patience running thin. "What the hell are you waiting for? You make it seem like you've never had sex before."

He froze.

Fucking.

Bitch.

There it was. There it fucking was. He was hoping this whole time that she wouldn't figure it out, hoping that she wouldn't be smart enough to notice, but who the fuck was he kidding? She was such a smart bitch. _Of course_ she'd figure it out.

He was so completely taken aback that he didn't say anything, but he didn't even have to. The fearful look on his face said it all. She raised her eyebrows.

"Shut the fuck up; you're a _virgin?" _she asked in disbelief._  
_

He continued staring at her with that same look, unsure how to answer. Should he just deny it? That would definitely be the easy way out, but it still seemed like a pretty risky thing to do, especially considering the fact that he was taking so motherfucking long to answer her. Should he just...tell her the truth?

Apparently, though, he didn't have to say anything at all, because the next thing he knew, she leaned forward and captured his lips with her own in the warmest, softest kiss they'd ever shared thus far. He felt a tingle in his stomach, hundreds of butterflies erupting inside of it and fluttering all about as he slowly closed his eyes and started returning the gentle kiss. He could feel her arms wrapping around his neck loosely, her hands running through his hair as she slowly started pulling him back down. And as she did, he couldn't help but realize something that scared the living shit out of him.

He was surrendering all of his power in that kiss.

That was it. There was no turning back now. He was completely vulnerable, and she fucking _knew_ it. He knew she fucking knew it. But for some reason, with the way she was kissing him right now, with so much warmth and tenderness, and the way her slender fingers were carefully threading themselves into his hair, and the feeling of her silky smooth leg rubbing up against the side of his stomach, and their bodies pressing so closely together, creating such intense heat between them...

It all felt so fucking _perfect. _He didn't even care about anything else. All he cared about was her.

Just her.

Just now.

He felt one of her hands starting to travel down his back, her fingernails lightly tickling his moist skin. He slowly pulled his lips away from hers, breaking their intimate kiss. He stared down at her for a moment, his thoughts racing all over the place and his heart pounding in his chest nervously. He was contemplating what to do, his nerves just building up more and more with each thought, but his mind suddenly went completely and utterly blank when she smiled at him. It wasn't a sexy grin. Or a mischievous smirk. It was just a soft, reassuring smile, one that seemed to give him the confidence he so desperately needed. He positioned himself in front of her then, looking down and holding his breath as he slowly entered her, and when he did, he was instantly struck with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure. He exhaled the long breath he was holding in, somehow turning it into a moan as he pushed himself in little by little until he was fully inside her. He was completely still for a second, his mind trying to grasp onto the fact this was truly, honest-to-God, actually fucking happening. After all these years of obsessing over her, wanting her, fantasizing, dreaming, pining...it was finally, _finally_ fucking happening.

Eric Cartman was having sex with Wendy Testaburger.

He snapped out of his thoughts, immediately bringing himself back to reality as he thrust into her for the very first time, short and hard, causing her to let out a loud cry.

"AHHHHH, YES!" she screamed.

He began thrusting in deeper, his hips grinding against hers a bit awkwardly at first. It took him a few thrusts before he slowly but surely started to find his rhythm, her low moans encouraging him and giving him more confidence. He could feel her hips grinding right back, meeting his every thrust. They matched up perfectly, his hips on hers, creating an intense friction between them that was quickly making his body start to burn up. He continued thrusting into her, pushing himself deeper and deeper inside of her until he was as deep as he could possibly go.

"Ah–AHHH! Harder!" she cried.

He complied, pushing into her more vigorously. He could feel her inner walls tightening around him as he pushed into her even harder, rapidly sliding himself back and forth inside her. His senses were so overwhelmed, his heart beating faster than it ever had before in his entire life. He just kept pushing into her with more and more force behind each thrust. He was so caught up in what he was doing that he was only vaguely aware of just how hard she was panting now. She was bouncing underneath him, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands grasping for his bed sheets.

"Mmmmm...ohhhh! Yes! Oh, God, YES! Come on, faster!" she begged, her hands now tightly clutching the sheets.

He sped up his rhythm, the bed making an annoying creak with each thrust as he kept getting faster and faster. He was staring right at her now, an occasional low grunt escaping his lips as he pushed into her more and more. He could feel sweat collecting on his forehead, and he swallowed hard, keeping his focus solely on her, and not on the fact that his entire body felt like it was on fire. The intense heat and friction just kept increasing more and more with each one of his deep thrusts, and it all felt so unbelievably fucking _awesome._ He breathed out, a smug feeling suddenly washing over him as she threw her head back in ecstasy and moaned loudly.

"OH, OH, AHHHHH! YES, CARTMAN, YES!" she screamed. Her hands let go of the sheets and came up to claw at his back with her perfectly manicured fingernails as he continued thrusting into her, harder and harder with each moan she let out. He knew she wanted more, and he gave it to her with yet another deep, forceful thrust. Her long, sharp fingernails started scratching his sweat-soaked skin, sending another rush of blood throughout his whole body. He could feel himself getting close. It was going to happen any second now. He pushed into her even harder than before, causing her to let out the loudest moan of the night.

"Ohhhhh, FUCK!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, officially reaching her limit. "Yes, Yes, YES! AAAAAHHHH! _ERIC!"_

That loud, overwhelming cry of pleasure finally did it for him. He climaxed, letting out a ridiculously long, grunting moan of intense ultimate pleasure as his seed shot out, spilling itself inside her. His entire body started to convulse harshly as his orgasm was wearing out. He felt one final twitch of his nether region, and then it was done. He was limp again. He pulled himself out of her, collapsing right next to her on the bed. His heart was racing a mile a minute, pounding against his chest like a fucking drum. They were both breathing in and out ferociously, as if they'd never breathed before.

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes gleaming with love and lust and passion and everything in between.

"You..." he breathed, taking a few deep breaths and exhaling them all loudly. His lips were slowly curving into a devilish smirk as he continued, "...called me Eric."

She returned the look, her eyes half-lidded as she heavily breathed in and out. "I knew you'd like that," she said huskily.

He felt his heart flip inside his chest. Oh, she was good. Really good. Very fucking clever.

He watched as she reached out with one hand and gently placed it on top of his arm. "So..." she began, her index and middle finger slowly walking up his arm, poking him with her fingernails. She stopped once she reached his shoulder, spreading her fingers open and resting her hand there. "...how was that for your first time, hmm?" she asked flirtatiously.

_'Fucking amazing,'_ he felt the urge to say.

But instead, he answered her by leaning in towards her and catching her lips in a long kiss. She kissed him back deeply, her hand gently caressing his cheek and slowly rubbing it up and down. Oh, God, if she knew just how fucking good she was making him feel right now...

He was elated. The happiest he'd ever felt.

All because of her.

They slowly separated, and as they opened their eyes, he couldn't help but smile at her. Shit, he was so fucking _whipped._ It was so totally pathetic; he was fully aware of that, and yet he honestly didn't even care. He pulled her closer to him, loving the feeling of her bare chest pressing against his. They both started closing their eyes again, the severe exhaustion of their bodies finally hitting them.

"My mom gave me that coat," he said suddenly, causing her to blink her eyes back open in confusion. She tilted her head up to look at him, but he kept his eyes closed.

"What?" she asked.

"It was the last thing she gave me," he continued as if she hadn't even said anything, "before she fucking died."

She furrowed her eyebrows, staring at him intently despite the fact that his eyes were still closed. "...Your mom died?"

He nodded his head slightly. "Three years ago."

There was a brief pause.

"My dad died."

His eyes instantly snapped open then.

"The fuck?" he asked, sounding surprised. "When?"

"Last year," she answered.

There was another brief pause.

"How?"

"Cancer," she replied simply.

"Ah," he said as he started to close his eyes again. "That sucks."

"Yeah," she agreed, lowering her head back down. "What about your mom?"

"AIDS."

"Ah," she said, closing her eyes as well. A faint smile made its way across her lips. "That sucks."

He smiled, too. "Yeah, well...she _was_ a total slut, so...I guess it was bound to happen eventually," he said as he slowly wrapped his arm around her body, similar to the way Stan had done earlier that morning. Only this felt a lot different. It definitely wasn't as gentle, but...

It felt so unbelievably fucking _warm._

She reached up, tangling her fingers into his soft, wild hair. He felt her stroking and pulling on the thin strands lightly, running her fingers back and forth, when after a while, her hand stopped moving. He was sure she'd fallen asleep then, but was surprised when he heard her make a small noise.

"Do you miss her?" she asked softly.

He became quiet after that, his smile fading as a familiar painful feeling hit him right in the chest. There was a strange awkward shift in the mood then, one that briefly had her wishing that she hadn't just asked that question. He eventually spoke up, though, his voice so quiet that she almost missed it.

"Yes."

And that was it. Nothing else. It was such a simple answer, and yet somehow, that single word told her so much.

"I miss my dad, too," she admitted in an equally meek voice.

He drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled it, the warm air brushing against her cheek.

"Well..." he said, following with a long pause. He didn't exactly have much experience when it came to comforting people. "...at least you didn't grind your own father into chili and feed him to your half-brother."

She let out a soft laugh, her smile widening as she slid her hand down from his head and onto his neck. Her other arm came up to slink perfectly around his neck.

"Goodnight," Wendy whispered.

"Mmmm...goodnight," Cartman whispered back drowsily. He suddenly felt his heart flutter inside his chest. _'I love you,'_ he thought just as he drifted off to a peaceful sleep.


	6. All I Ask of You

**Author's Note:** So...this chapter is pretty much the complete opposite of the previous chapter. It's super sappy and super romantic (well...only one scene is, actually). That's really all I have to say about it.

On a totally unrelated note, I just wanna say that I really love the song, _All I Ask of You, _too. I especially love playing it on the piano. It has such a gorgeous melody. And beautiful lyrics. *heart melts*

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Six: All I Ask of You_

* * *

Two weeks. Two. Goddamn. Weeks.

It had been a full two weeks since Cartman and Wendy slept together. They hadn't talked about that night since it happened. In fact, they had barely talked _at_ _all_ since that night. Wendy was purposely distancing herself from Cartman, for whatever reasons, he had no idea. She wouldn't tell him, obviously, and the fact that she was avoiding him so much was driving him absolutely fucking _crazy_. He ran a hand through his hair, absentmindedly pulling at it and most likely ripping a few strands right out. He anxiously paced back and forth, muttering obscenities to himself and stomping on the wet snow that covered the ground. He stopped dead in his tracks when he felt his cell phone vibrate against his thigh. He reached into his pants pocket and took the phone out. He didn't even bother looking at the screen as he already knew who was calling him.

"Kahl!" Cartman shouted, his voice coming out as a mixture of both slight relief and blatant annoyance. "Where the fuck are you, Jew?"

"Right behind you, fatass," came Kyle's voice that echoed into the phone, causing Cartman to nearly jump ten feet in the air.

"Jesus motherfucking Christ!" he screamed, putting a hand over his chest to calm down his rapid heartbeat. He whipped himself around, and sure enough, he saw Kyle, standing there with a pompous grin on his face. Cartman snarled, his body acting out of sheer anger as he grabbed Kyle with both hands by his jacket collar, hoping to choke the Jew.

"You sneaky little Jew rat!" he spat in Kyle's face, shaking him violently back and forth. "Don't fucking sneak up on me like that again or I'll–"

He suddenly cut off his own sentence, his eyes widening in utter shock and disbelief when he saw that there was someone standing a few feet behind Kyle. A certain tall, skinny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed dude with an arched eyebrow and an enormous fucking smirk on his face.

"The...fuck?" Cartman said slowly, staring right at the blonde while still tightly clutching Kyle's jacket collar. _"...Kinny?"_

Kenny nodded, taking a few hesitant steps closer to them.

"That's right, dude. It's me," he said in a playful tone. "I'd give you a hug, but...shit, if _that's_ how you fucking greet people..." He gestured with his hand at the sight in front of him. "...then, I think I'm gonna fucking pass, man."

Cartman glared at Kyle, who merely gave him a smirk.

"Oh, Jesus...are you two gonna make out?" Kenny asked.

They both looked away from one another to stare right at Kenny with matching blank looks on their faces.

"...What?" Kenny asked.

Cartman rolled his eyes, finally letting go of Kyle, much to the Jewish boy's tremendous relief.

"So. Ken," Cartman said sort of awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "Long time no see, man."

"Yep," Kenny said with a lazy nod of his head. "Did ya miss me?" He paused, waiting for an answer, and when he didn't get one, he decided to change the subject. "Oh, by the way, man, I'm totally diggin' that beard you got there. Makes you look kinda hot."

Cartman looked up at the dark sky, inhaling deeply and letting out a long sigh as he shook his head back and forth.

"Wow, after all these fucking years...you're _still_ such a goddamn homo, aren't you, Kinny?" he asked mockingly.

Kenny grinned, clearly not offended by the insult.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, flicking his wrist nonchalantly. "Come here, fatass."

Cartman looked back down again, having very little time to react as Kenny suddenly stepped right in front of him and wrapped both of his arms around his back. The larger man flinched a little, but after a moment, he cautiously wrapped his own arms around Kenny, patting his shoulder a bit. Kyle just stood there next to them, watching his friends as they shared an awkward yet warm hug. In the middle of a dark alley.

_'Wow, this isn't gay at all...'_ Kyle sarcastically commented to himself, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Damn," Kenny said as he started to pull away from Cartman. "You got fucking _buff_, dude. The chicks must be all over you."

Cartman blinked. "Um..." he started, only to trail off, instead deciding to direct his attention back to Kyle. "Why's he here, Kahl?"

Kyle shrugged. "I dunno, dude. He missed you."

Cartman glanced back at Kenny, who simply smiled at him in that sickly sweet, totally gay way. Cartman couldn't help but smirk then.

"Yeah, well...I don't blame you, Kinny," he said, purposely coming off as the smug bastard they both knew and loved oh so much. "After all, I _am_ super fucking awesome...how could you _not_ miss me?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, letting out a small laugh nonetheless.

"All right, Cartman, enough of this bullshit," he said, starting to get fed up. "Why'd you want me to come so badly?"

"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" Kenny randomly screamed, causing both Kyle and Cartman to sharply turn their heads to gawk at their perverted friend.

Cartman put a hand on Kenny's shoulder, giving it a strong squeeze.

"Oh, God, I totally fucking missed you, too, Kinny," he said with a faint chuckle in his voice.

"I knew it, baby," Kenny said, winking at him mischievously.

"And Kahl," Cartman said, removing his hand from Kenny's shoulder, "I need your help."

"Well, I kind of figured that," Kyle said in a condescending tone.

Cartman purposely ignored the bitchy attitude in Kyle's voice, deciding instead to just cut right to the chase.

"Look, I..." he paused, frantically searching for the right way to ask it. "I need your help with..." He stopped again, this time shooting a dirty look at Kenny, who promptly held up his hands and started slowly backing away.

"Hey, hey, I get it, man," Kenny said hastily. "I'll just be...waiting over here..."

Cartman waited impatiently for Kenny to round the corner of the large theater building and disappear before he turned back to Kyle.

"I need your help with Wendy," he said in a quiet voice, just in case Kenny was still standing close by and secretly eavesdropping on them. Which he probably was, but there was nothing Cartman could really do about that.

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not in the mood for this. Still, he'd driven all the way from South Park, so there was really no point of backing out of it now.

"Fine, dude, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

Cartman looked a little taken aback then.

"Well, I need you to, like...talk to Wendy for me, or...something," he muttered, awkwardly diverting his gaze from Kyle. He was feeling really embarrassed now for some reason, and having to ask Kyle this favor was only making it worse.

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Uh..." he said with obvious confusion in his voice, "...about what?"

"Just..." Cartman began, still avoiding Kyle's gaze by staring at the snow-covered ground. He could feel his face heating up, and he was just hoping that the darkness was making it less noticeable. He took a deep breath and continued, "I don't know, Jew." He finally looked up at Kyle again. "Just...ask her why she won't fucking talk to me. I'm seriously, it's really pissing me off."

Kyle blinked, his expression unreadable. "You mean...ever since you two..."

"Yes," Cartman answered quickly, still not wanting Kenny to overhear them. Unfortunately, though, it didn't work, because all of a sudden, he heard the distant sound of that all too familiar irritating voice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kenny screamed. Cartman groaned under his breath, the word _'Fuuuuuuuck!'_ screaming in his mind. He turned his head to see Kenny running back over to them. The blonde stopped to catch his breath before looking right at Cartman, who already knew what Kenny was going to ask before he even said it.

"You fucked _Wendy?"_

He sounded both shocked and amazed, and Cartman wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

"Uh..." the brunette started. Shit, if his blush wasn't noticeable before_,_ then it _definitely_ was now.

"Yes, dude," Kyle answered for him. "Two weeks ago. Right, fatass?"

Cartman glanced over at Kyle, his mouth now parted open in surprise. "R-Right."

"Holy shit," Kenny said in amazement. "I can't fucking believe this! This is...this is _huge,_ man."

"That's what she said," Kyle said quietly, a smile on his face.

"I mean, wow," Kenny went on, completely missing Kyle's remark, "I guess all I can say is...it's about fucking _time._"

Cartman scowled at that comment.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" he asked in a suspicious tone.

"Oh, yeah," Kyle intervened, "he knows you like Wendy, too."

_"What?"_ Cartman practically shrieked, his eyes widening. His pupils started rapidly darting back and forth between Kyle and Kenny until they finally settled on Kyle. "Goddammit, Kahl, you fucking ratted me out to Kinny?"

"No, no," Kenny quickly spoke up, since he knew Kyle would most likely kick his ass if he didn't tell Cartman the truth right now. "Kyle didn't tell me anything," he assured him. "I figured it out myself, dude. Honest."

Cartman stared at Kenny in silence, his eyes narrowed. He stayed like that for a moment before letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

"God, I hate you guys..." he said as he sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"We love you, too," Kenny said sweetly.

Kyle shook his head, grinning over how ridiculous his friends were.

"All right, Cartman," he said, catching the larger man's attention again. "I'll talk to Wendy for you."

Cartman blinked, surprised that Kyle was actually willing to help him, just like that, without much of a fight. He tried his best not to smile, since he knew it would just make him look like a total pussy, but he was finding it extremely difficult, and ended up smiling anyway.

"Thanks, Kahl," he said, sincerely meaning it, probably for the first time in his entire life. "I fucking owe you one, Jew. Seriously."

Kyle smiled back, completely ignoring the snickering that was coming from Kenny.

* * *

"Wendy?"

The raven-haired woman was in her dressing room, sitting in the chair in front of her vanity and putting on her makeup. When she heard the knock on her door, she twisted the cap on the mascara she was using and carefully set it down on the marble vanity.

"Come in," she said, running a hand through her hair while gazing at herself in the mirror. She turned around just as the door was opening, and as the person walked in to reveal himself, she froze for a moment, surprised to see who it was. "Kyle?"

"Yeah," he said, closing the door behind him. "Hey, Wendy."

"Hey, Kyle," she greeted a bit warily. "Um...wow, what a surprise. What are you doing here?"

Kyle slowly walked over to her, stopping when he reached the vanity. He leaned his back against it and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Let's just say...someone sent me," he said as nonchalantly as he could.

Wendy blinked at him curiously, purposely staying silent for a moment. She wasn't fooled by him for a second. She knew who exactly who that _someone_ was.

"Okay..." she said finally, sounding extremely cautious now. She quickly decided that she was definitely going to keep her guard up for the rest of this conversation. "So...why exactly did this 'someone' send you here?"

Unfortunately for Wendy, though, Kyle wasn't easily fooled, either. He easily picked up on what she was doing.

"All right, let's not dance around the fucking subject here," Kyle said rashly, catching Wendy off guard. "Cartman sent me here. You know that. He wanted me to talk to you about..."

The redhead trailed off then, suddenly getting distracted by someone else walking into Wendy's dressing room. Wendy furrowed her eyebrows and looked behind her. She smiled when she saw who it was.

"Oh, hey, Bebe," she said, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. _'Perfect timing.'_

Of course Wendy knew about Kyle's crush on Bebe. _Everyone_ knew. Except Bebe, obviously.

"Hey, Kyle, what are you doing here?" Bebe asked, smiling brightly as she walked over to him.

Kyle visibly tensed up as she approached him. His eyes grew a little wider, and his crossed arms tightened against his body.

"I, uh...I was just talking to...uh..."

"Wendy," the dark-haired woman answered for him, unable to hide the smirk on her face.

"Oh," Bebe said. "Well, if you guys are busy, I can just come back after you're done talking or something..."

"No, no, no," Wendy said quickly as she finally got up from her chair. "You two stay here and talk. I've got somewhere I need to be now, anyway."

Kyle looked at Wendy, his mouth parted, as though he were about to say something, but he stayed silent.

"I'll see you guys later," Wendy said, grabbing her purse and walking over to the coat rack to get her jacket. She was almost out the door when she stopped and added in a suggestive tone, "Have fun."

She was out the door before either of them could say anything. They looked at each other, Bebe with a smile on her face, Kyle with a slight blush adorned on his.

"Um," he said, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides. He nervously gripped the vanity behind him with both of his hands, drumming his fingers against the drawers. Bebe smiled wider, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

"Come on," she said as she reached out and gently grabbed one of Kyle's hands. He didn't say a word as she pulled him out of the room, leading him to her own dressing room.

* * *

"Are you keeping your eyes closed?" Stan asked, his red-gloved hand tightly wrapped around Wendy's bare hand. He was slowly making his way up the cold cement flight of stairs that led to the roof of the theater building, purposely taking his time to make sure Wendy didn't trip and fall. He heard her let out a laugh behind him.

"I am!" she said, her voice filled with excitement.

"Good," Stan said, smiling.

They continued walking up the stairs, Wendy's excitement growing more and more with each step. She heard a door open and was instantly hit with a strong, chilly gust of wind that blew against her face. She shivered at the breeze and grinned wider, already knowing where they were, but still feeling excited.

"Okay," Stan said as he carefully let go of Wendy's hand. "You can open your eyes now."

She did, her eyes slowly fluttering open and then immediately widening in amazement.

"Wow," Wendy marveled, gazing longingly at the scenery before her. They were indeed on the roof of the building. It was open and empty, aside from a large gray statue of a praying angel that sat right in the middle of the square rooftop. She looked up at the night sky, dark blue and scattered with stars that stretched out in all directions. Her eyes fell back down to look at Stan. "It's beautiful."

Stan grinned, but he said nothing as he reached for Wendy's hand again, taking it in his own and leading her towards the statue. They both sat down on the flat circular edge of it, turning to look at each other, but still neither one of them saying anything. Finally, though, Wendy let out a sigh, deciding to break the silence.

"Look, Stan, there's..." she hesitated, "there's something really important I need to tell you. And you're probably gonna totally fucking hate me for it, but–"

"Oh, God," Stan suddenly interrupted, already sounding disappointed. Wendy gave him a confused look.

"What?" she asked curiously.

Stan blinked, as though he didn't even realize he'd just interrupted her.

"No, no, it's nothing," he said quickly, but Wendy knew he was lying, and she let him know that by giving him a different look, a more annoyed, impatient-looking one. Stan easily recognized the look and let out a sigh.

"It's just..." he began, but he wasn't really sure how to continue, so he just stopped there, now trying to figure out how to say what it was he wanted to say. Wendy just kept staring at him, but his eyes were no longer fixed on her. Instead, they were looking down at the ground as he became lost in his own thoughts. God, there was so much he _wanted_ to say to her. So much he wanted to let her know and get off his chest. He just didn't know how the hell to say any of it, and it was definitely starting to make him feel a little frustrated.

Or _a lot_ frustrated.

"Fuck, Wendy," he muttered out of his sudden deep frustration. He glanced up at her again. She was looking more confused than ever, with her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth parted, but he didn't think anything of it. He simply asked in an almost angry tone, "Don't you get it?"

"Get _what,_ Stan?" she asked in an equally frustrated tone.

Stan let out the loudest sigh of annoyance, simultaneously rolling his blue eyes. He literally had no idea where the fuck to even begin, so instead of wasting his time trying to tell her how he felt about her, he decided it would be a whole lot easier to just _show_ her. So he quickly let go of her hand and reached up, taking her face in both of his hands. He then pulled her forward, kissing her full on the lips.

This wasn't a warm, gentle kiss, like the many they'd shared in the past. This was a much angrier kiss, one that was based on unexpressed hurt and frustration that had built up over the years, ever since the two of them broke up and slowly began drifting apart. It was full of passion, and Wendy found herself melting right into it, kissing him back with just as much intensity. They were both expressing their need for each other in this kiss. Not want, but actual, physical, heart-aching _need,_ something much too powerful for either of them to even realize just how strong that need was.

After a while, Stan abruptly pulled away, panting loudly and staring right at Wendy with his wide blue eyes. She stared right back at him, her brown eyes even wider than before.

"Wow," she said quietly, still trying to catch her breath.

His gloved fingers that had been caressing her cheeks slowly slid themselves into her hair. He felt like his heart was about to explode at any given moment, and he knew he had to say what was on his mind now before it was too late. With all the confidence he had, he finally opened his mouth and said it in a calm, serious voice.

"I love you, Wendy."

As soon as the words left his lips, Wendy's beautiful brown eyes started to fill with tears. And before she could even attempt to stop herself from crying, the glistening tears had already escaped, rolling uncontrollably down her cheeks.

"I-I love you too, Stan," she said, her voice sounding broken up and heavy with emotion.

She tangled her own fingers into his jet black hair and pulled him in for another kiss. It was a much deeper, slower kiss this time around, one that Stan gladly returned, one that was quickly bringing back all of their former intimate emotions all at once.

And the whole time Wendy was kissing him, there was a voice in the back of her mind that was screaming at her to tell him, _tell him, tell him, TELL HIM!_

But it only made her want to cry harder and kiss him longer, because she just couldn't do it. She couldn't deal with the pain and guilt of having to break Stan's heart by telling him that she fucking _betrayed_ him like that, and worse, that she'd been lying to him this entire time. She just couldn't handle it. She knew it was selfish on her part, because she was protecting her own feelings, but really...

It was because she was afraid.

They slowly broke apart, savoring the warmness that lingered on their lips. Stan removed his hands from Wendy's hair and stuffed them into his coat pockets. Wendy let go of him as well, using her index finger to wipe away the last few remaining tears from her eyes. They were both silent for a few seconds when Stan suddenly cleared his throat.

"You really love me?" he asked.

Wendy was a bit confused by the question, and she just stared at him silently for a few more seconds before slowly and sheepishly nodding her head. The smile he gave her after that was probably one of the cutest ones she'd ever seen from him, and it just made her feel a lot better.

"So...would you do anything for me then?"

Wendy blinked, feeling even more confused by that question than the previous one. She slowly nodded again.

"Okay," Stan said, shuffling his feet a bit, but still keeping his hands inside his pockets. "Will you do something for me then?"

"Uh...sure," Wendy answered, now wondering where he was going with all of these questions.

Stan slowly rose to his feet for a moment, only to kneel back down in front of her.

On one knee.

"Oh my God," Wendy said without even realizing it. She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe, her heart now beating extremely fast inside her chest. "What are you doing?"

But Stan didn't answer her question. Instead, he pulled out a diamond ring from his pocket, looked her right in the eyes, and asked a question of his own.

"Wendy, will you marry me?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** OMG, CLIFFHANGER!

I'm writing this for you, Maz-A-Ma-Taz and xEmerald Isle, since you two are my loyal reviewers who've been with this story since chapter one and have reviewed every single chapter so far. I appreciate that more than you know, and you guys are the reason why I'm determined to finish this story.

Thank you for the encouragement and support. ^_^


	7. Masquerade

**Author's Note: **Crazy shit goes down in this chapter! XD**  
**

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Seven: Masquerade_

* * *

"You're _ENGAGED?_"

The proof was right there. On her left ring finger. A beautiful diamond ring with a sterling silver band. It sparkled brightly underneath the fluorescent lights of Wendy's dressing room. Wendy herself smiled sheepishly as she carefully tore her hand away from her best friend's grasp.

"Yes, I am," Wendy said, briefly glancing down at her ring before looking up at Bebe again. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

Bebe gave her one of those "are you KIDDING me?" looks, her blue eyes widening as she simply gaped at Wendy for a moment.

"Because this is _huge,_ Wendy!" she said at last, her tone suggesting that Wendy should've already known that. "I mean, it's you and _Stan!_ You two were the _it_ couple back in high school!"

Wendy slowly folded her arms over her chest, finding herself growing slightly annoyed.

"And what's your point, exactly?" she asked in a somewhat suspicious tone.

Bebe blinked, the smile on her face instantly disappearing.

"Well, it's just," she started, absentmindedly clasping her hands together in a nervous manner. "I didn't actually think you guys would ever get back together...and so quickly, too."

Wendy's skepticism heightened even more with that comment.

"Sure, but...what's your _point,_ Bebe?" she repeated in a stern voice.

The serious look on Bebe's face lasted for probably a split-second longer before she smiled again in that usual cheerful way of hers.

"My point is that I just can't believe you two are back together and getting _married!_" she said excitedly. "I'm just...I'm so happy for you, Wendy!"

Bebe quickly unclasped her hands and held them up, wrapping her arms loosely around Wendy's neck in a congratulatory hug. Wendy hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around her blonde friend as well.

"Thanks, Bebe," she said, although she didn't really mean it. For some reason, she just couldn't shake off the feeling that something didn't seem right about the way Bebe reacted just now. She sounded a little _too_ surprised, as if she wasn't expecting it _at all_...almost as if she knew about...

"Hey, Bebe?" Wendy began, just as the two of them were slowly pulling away from one another. Bebe stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. She was just about to, when all of a sudden–

"WHERE ARE MY BALLERINAS?"

The damn frazzled director started screaming from backstage.

"FIVE MINUTES, PEOPLE! _FIVE!_"

Bebe let out a disappointed sigh.

"Damn, that director is so annoying," she commented with a frown. "I'd better go, Wendy. I'll talk to you after the show." She rushed out the door before Wendy had the chance to say anything else. Letting out a sigh of her own, Wendy walked over to the door and slowly closed it. She wasn't in the opening scene of the ballet, so she still had about fifteen minutes or so before she had to be on stage. She quietly made her way back to her vanity and plopped down on the seat in front of it, her back turned to the mirror. There was complete silence in her dressing room for all of thirty seconds as she simply sat there, unsure what to do with herself, until her eyes wandered down to gaze at her new engagement ring once again. She smiled, admiring the diamond. It really was a pretty ring...it must've cost Stan a fortune...

Suddenly, her peaceful solitude was rudely disrupted by a loud crashing sound. Wendy felt her heart jump as her head snapped up to look at her one and only intruder.

"Fucking _balls,_" he cursed to himself as he stood up.

Wendy rolled her eyes and spun around in her seat to face the mirror now, although she didn't look at it, instead choosing to fix her eyes on her ring and nothing else. But before she even realized what was happening, two large hands forcefully grabbed her by the shoulders. Her body jumped from the sudden touch, but she kept her head bent down, refusing to lift it or make any sort of acknowledgment towards him.

"You little whore," she heard Cartman snarl in his usual dark, heartless tone. His hands tightened against her shoulders, but he didn't bother turning her around in her chair. He merely peered over her shoulder to catch a brief glance at what she was staring at so intently. "So...you're engaged now? Is that right?"

Wendy's stomach churned uncomfortably, but she made sure not to make her strong discomfort known to him by making any other abrupt movements. She continued sitting perfectly still, as well as staying perfectly silent. The dead silence lasted for only a few short seconds before Cartman finally lost his patience. In one sharp motion, he let go of Wendy's shoulders, giving her only a moment of relief before he latched onto both arms of her chair and spun it around so that she faced him. Wendy instinctively clamped her eyes shut, as though she were expecting to get punched in the face. But when nothing happened, she slowly opened her eyes, at last allowing herself to look at Cartman. He had the darkest, most sinister look on his face, his brown eyes blazing like fire.

"You think you can do this to me?" he asked in that same ominous tone, his eyes narrowing as he leaned his face closer to hers. "After everything I've done for you?"

But Wendy said absolutely nothing, instead narrowing her eyes as well.

"And what exactly did you do for me, Cartman?" she asked, trying her best to sound intimidating herself, when in reality, she was feeling downright terrified, not to mention sick to her stomach. She went on anyway. "Get me the lead role in this ballet? And for what? Just so you could sleep me with me, right? Well, you got what you wanted, didn't you?"

The harsh look on Cartman's face slowly started to change then. His narrowed eyes began to widen, his pupils rapidly shaking back and forth, as though he were on the verge of tears.

"I..." he started, drawing back from her a bit. Whatever he was about to say, though, he didn't bother to finish. He simply let out a growl, his expression once again hardening into that same vicious look he had just moments ago. "Shut up, bitch! You don't know what the hell you're talking about! That wasn't the reason I got you the part in this fucking faggy ballet!"

Wendy raised an eyebrow, suddenly finding herself intrigued.

"Oh, _really?_" she asked skeptically. "So what was the reason then, huh?"

Cartman blinked, the angry look on his face disappearing yet again. He absentmindedly swallowed as he looked away from Wendy.

"Well, it's..." he started, his hands slipping off the arms of her chair and falling back down to his sides. He was silent for a little while after that, looking as though he were deep in thought. But then, he lowered his eyebrows, glaring right at Wendy again. "No, it's none of your fucking business, you nosy little bitch!" And just like that, he slapped his hands onto the arms of her chair yet again and leaned in dangerously close to her. "Now...take that fucking ring off."

This time, Wendy didn't flinch, or cower back in fear, or make any indication at all that she was scared, the way she normally would. Because, somehow, in that moment, Cartman didn't seem so intimidating anymore.

"No," she said simply.

Cartman continued staring at her darkly for a few more seconds, when finally, he let go of her chair and stood up straight.

"All right. Fine," he said in a surprisingly calm tone. He turned his back to her and started walking towards the vent. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped, turned around, and said in the most threatening tone he could muster: "You asked for it, whore."

And then he left.

And Wendy just sat there.

* * *

The ballet was in full swing, the ballerinas twirling and leaping and dancing on stage, all in perfect unison. Wendy's big scene was quickly approaching, and she could feel that familiar nervous yet exciting energy building up inside her stomach as she heard the music from inside her dressing room, anxiously awaiting her cue.

Meanwhile, somewhere above her, Cartman was busy crawling through the vents, his hands and knees pounding against the metal loudly as he made his way through the rather narrow tunnel.

"That little fucking _skank,_" he muttered to himself angrily, his own voice echoing through the vent and sending an ugly chill down his spine. He ignored it and continued moving. "She thinks she can betray me like that and get away with it? Well, she's in for a _real_ goddamn surprise..."

He clenched his hands tightly, his blunt fingertips digging fiercely into the cold metal of the vent. God, he'd literally never felt so fucking _angry_ before in his entire life. No. It wasn't even anger. Because what he was feeling right now...this hot, blood-boiling, seething, deep and utter resentment...this feeling was something much more intense than your average, everyday anger. No, he was definitely beyond pissed. It wasn't just some petty jealousy, either, like the kind he used to feel when he was in high school and he saw Stan and Wendy holding hands in the hallway, or exchange a quick kiss hello or goodbye, or any other disgusting form of public display of affection they used to share. No, this feeling was definitely much, _much_ worse. It wasn't based on jealousy at all. It was based on...

He suddenly froze, realizing out of nowhere that his eyes were starting to water. Hastily, he reached up with one hand and rubbed his eyes, smearing the tears on his skin before they had the chance to escape his eyes and roll down his cheeks. _Fuck._ Was he really fucking _crying_ right now? Shit, what was he, a pussy?

No, _Stan_ was the pussy. Not him. Stan was always the pussy of their group, always so nice and calm and laid back and wanting to save those stupid goddamn fucking whales and always trying to keep the peace amongst everyone. God, he was such a fucking pussy faggot...

...

...and yet, _he_ was the one who was with Wendy again. _He_ was the one who put that fucking diamond ring on her finger. He was always the one she...

...loved.

Cartman remained immobile for what felt like an eternity, staring absently at the silver floor of the vent, his heart sinking to the bottom of his chest as he realized the obvious truth: Wendy was engaged. She was fucking _engaged. _It wasn't just some stupid thing that he could just pretend wasn't happening. He knew that, in however many weeks or months or years, she was going to marry Stan, and they were going to eventually start a family together, and she was going to have a whole new happy, perfect life as Wendy Marsh.

He exhaled a long breath that he didn't even realize he was holding in, the sound carrying throughout the vent, making it sound a lot louder than it would normally sound. He immediately shuddered, realizing just how fucking creepy that was. And then, he let out a snarl, his hand falling back down and smacking onto the vent with a loud metallic slam as he continued crawling towards the center.

_Hurt._

That was what he was feeling right now. He was feeling hurt. Like he'd just been stabbed in the heart by Wendy.

Fucking little _bitch. _She'd definitely be sorry that she ever made him feel this way. _Everyone_ would be sorry...

He smirked when he finally reached what he'd been looking for: an opening in the vent. He stopped crawling and looked down at it, peering through the thin metal bars. He was right above the stage, just as he was expecting.

_'Perfect,'_ he thought, his malicious grin widening.

* * *

The crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, just above the stage. It sparkled proudly in contrast with the rest of the dark theater, aside from the spotlights that lit up the dancers onstage. A single ballerina twirled gracefully center stage, her arms stretching above her head, and her hands clasping together. She slowly curtsied, her long torso curving downward in perfect timing with the slow, romantic music.

Sitting close to the stage in the orchestra seats were Stan, Kyle, and Kenny. The latter was looking bored and restless, shifting his body weight every once in a while on the armrests. He nudged Stan with his elbow.

"Dude, why the fuck are we watching this shit _again?"_ he whispered in a not-so-quiet voice.

Stan shot him a warning glare, although he didn't say anything. Kenny rolled his eyes and let out a purposely loud sigh.

"This blooooooows-"

Stan cut him off by violently elbowing him right in the stomach. Kenny immediately clutched his stomach in pain, his body hunching forward in his seat.

"You'll...pay for that...asshole," he managed to choke out in a sort-of whisper.

Stan ignored him, though, instead keeping his attention on the ballet. More ballerinas were filing onto the stage, and just as the music came to a dramatic pause, that was when..._ it_ happened.

Out of nowhere, there was a loud sound, like the snapping of a wire. A bright spark went off in the air, causing a few people to jump in their seats in alarm. And then, before anyone knew what was happening, the large chandelier flew down into the crowd. People shrieked at the top of their lungs, leaping up from their seats as they started running away in all different directions. The ballerinas on stage ducked, some fleeing right away, the rest just standing there, frozen in shock. The chandelier came crashing down with an extremely loud shattering noise, shards of glass exploding everywhere and scattering across the floor and on the seats.

The glass pieces coated the ground in thin, sparkling layers of crystals, and the sudden impact of the chandelier falling and breaking caught up with the lights on stage, sending more crackling sparks into the air. The maroon curtain suddenly sparked as well, immediately catching on fire. The deafening sounds of screams and glass crunching beneath feet echoed throughout the entire room as people ran around in chaos. There was blood splattered on a few seats, particularly the ones closest to the stage, and people watched in horror as the roaring, rapidly growing fire spread further across the theater, onto the walls and the carpet. Everyone ran for their lives, although a few of them unfortunately didn't make it so lucky.

"Oh my God!" Stan shrieked in horror. "THEY KILLED KENNY!"

Kyle, who was running alongside him, raised his fist in the air.

"YOU BASTARDS!" he screamed as the two of them kept running like hell, rushing to push their way out of the massive crowd of people.

It was utter pandemonium.

And, still up in the vent, watching the terror and destruction unfold right before his very eyes, was Eric Cartman. He chuckled to himself.

"Nice," he said darkly, the evil smirk never leaving his lips.

* * *

Wendy was still in her dressing room finishing up getting ready when she heard the unexpected loud crash and panicked screams. She immediately leapt to her feet and was about to rush out the door, when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Someone was standing right there in the doorway, blocking her exit.

"C-Cartman?" she stammered, her eyes widening as she absentmindedly took a few steps backwards. "What's going on? Why are people screaming?"

But Cartman didn't answer any of her questions. He simply stepped inside her dressing room, closing the door behind himself before he started advancing towards her.

"Don't worry about it," he said in an all-too casual tone, making it sound almost eerie.

Wendy took a few more steps backwards, being careful not to bump into anything.

"What did you do?" she asked fearfully.

Cartman grinned, a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"Nothing," he said as innocently as he could.

Wendy continued backing away from him even farther, her pace quickening, until she suddenly hit a wall. She froze there, mentally cursing herself for being so stupid. Before she could even attempt to move away, Cartman had already cornered her. He slapped his hands onto the wall, similar to the way he'd done when they were alone in his apartment together, and he leaned in towards her, their faces at an uncomfortable distance from one another.

"I warned you, Wendy," he said, spitting out Wendy's name in a false, sickeningly sweet way, causing her to shudder. "I fucking _warned_ you."

Wendy gulped, feeling her heartbeat speed up inside her chest.

"What did you do?" she repeated, a frightened yet still slightly demanding tone in her voice.

Cartman leaned in even closer to her, his nose practically brushing against her own. She felt like she was about to pass out at that point, but she managed to stay standing. She squeezed her eyes shut, though, since she couldn't stand to look at him anymore. The way he was staring at her, with that sinister glint in his eyes, made him look so... _evil, _and she knew he'd just done something horribly, horribly wrong and extremely fucked up.

She could feel his hot breath near her lips, and just when she thought that he was going to kiss her, she felt him move away. Confused, she opened her eyes again. He had already turned away from her and started walking over to his usual opening in the vent. Without either one of them saying another word, Wendy watched as Cartman hoisted himself up and disappeared into the vent.

She was left alone, once again, although the relieved feeling she usually got whenever Cartman left didn't come this time. Instead, she felt...

"_Fuck,_" she said out loud, slowly reaching up and placing a hand over her rapidly beating heart.

* * *

Five days had gone by since the horrific incident. Everyone was slowly recovering from it, although many people were still scarred and traumatized by the sight of the enormous chandelier falling and shattering right in front of them, injuring and killing a few dozen people. The ballet was now canceled for the next few weeks so that the mess could be cleaned up. The theater itself had pretty much turned into a crime scene now, with bright yellow tape wrapped around the entire building, and police officers and paramedics inspecting the broken chandelier pieces, as well as the dead bodies.

Surprisingly, though, Kenny's body wasn't one of them.

"I mean, holy fucking _shit,_" the blonde himself said, perfectly alive and healthy, yet again. He was sitting on a stool near the counter in Kyle's kitchen, a can of beer in his hand. "I still can't get over the fact that I managed to get outta there alive!"

Stan and Kyle exchanged glances.

"Um, dude, you _died. _Remember?" Stan said. "The chandelier fucking _crushed_ you."

Kenny took another swig of his beer before slamming it down onto Kyle's counter.

"Well, yeah, true...I guess that thing _did_ slice me pretty deep..." he said, thoughtfully stroking the can with his thumb. He finally let go of it, sitting up straighter in his seat. "I still have the scar, actually. You guys wanna see?"

"NO!" his two friends screamed in unison, just as Kenny was about to lift his shirt.

"Jesus, you guys are no fun," Kenny pouted as he promptly let go of his shirt and reached for his beer again.

"Anyway," Kyle said, deciding to change the subject, "I've been thinking..."

"About Bebe's sweet rack?" Kenny asked.

Kyle shot him a dirty look, but he quickly got over it and shook his head.

"No," he said. "I've been thinking that, since Stan's leaving in two days, we should have like, a farewell party for him, or something."

"A farewell party?" Stan echoed, sounding a bit wary. "I don't know, dude, that sounds nice and all, but you don't have to go through all that trouble for me. Really, it's not a big deal that I'm leaving. I'll probably be back again to visit in a few months or something, anyway."

"Dude, shut up," Kyle said. "I'm throwing you a party, whether you like it or not."

"_Damn,_" Kenny spoke up, a huge, teasing grin stretching across his lips. "Someone's a little party animal, isn't he? I didn't know you had it in you, Kyle."

"Fuck you," Kyle said, although his tone didn't have much anger in it. He turned his attention back to Stan. "Dude, if you don't want a farewell party, then we can just make it a party to celebrate your engagement instead."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Kenny said. "You and Wendy got engaged...how the hell is that gonna work, exactly? I mean, is she gonna move to New York with you? Or are you gonna move back here? Or are you guys gonna be one of those married couples who fuck each other, but are also allowed to fuck _other_ people? Like...partner swapping, or some shit? I should look into that..."

"...You just don't know when to stop talking, do you?" Kyle asked flatly.

Kenny smiled in that so-called innocent way of his.

"Nope," he said simply.

Stan rolled his eyes, laughing a little despite everything.

"Well, for now, we agreed that I would go back to New York, and she'd stay here, and we'd figure it out from there," he said.

"So...the whole 'being allowed to fuck other people' thing is out of the question for you guys, then?" Kenny asked. "Because, I'm not gonna lie, I kinda always wanted to fuck-"

"DUDE!" Stan shrieked in utter horror.

"What?" Kenny asked. He suddenly flashed a suggestive smirk. "I was gonna say _you._"

Stan stared at him for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape.

"You're a sick bastard," he said at last.

"Pssh," Kenny said, flicking his wrist dismissively. "You know you want me, _Stanley._"

He was then elbowed in the ribs again, followed by being completely ignored by Stan and Kyle, who casually started talking about the party.


	8. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

**Author's Note: **Cartman's barely in this chapter. Just, you know, as a heads up. 'Cause I know you love him as much as I do in this story, with his sexy stubbly beard and that long black coat of his. Yeahhh. ;D (I honestly think he'd look really hot like that. Just sayin'. XD)

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Eight: Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again_

* * *

"KYYYYLLLLEEEE!" a completely drunk-off-his-ass Kenny McCormick screeched at the top of his frail lungs. Nearly everyone in Kyle's living room cringed at the sound of the blonde's annoying, ear-piercing cry. A few people even threw their hands over their ears, unable to take the unnecessary screaming in such a small house, where the slightest noise seemed to be amplified. The obnoxiously loud drunk man himself took a few stumbling steps forward, nearly spilling the half-empty beer bottle in his hand, before two hands suddenly shot out in front of him, slapping on top of his shoulders.

"Whoa, take it easy, dude," Kyle said in the calmest voice he could muster, not wanting to make more of a scene. His hands started shaking as he struggled to hold Kenny up. _'Goddammit,'_ the redhead thought, _'since when did he get so fucking heavy?'_ He tried to push Kenny forward so that the blonde would stand securely on the ground, but it was no use. He knew that the second he moved his hands, Kenny would fall face first onto the ground. Because he was a dumbass. Even more so when he was drunk.

"_Kyyyyllleee!_" his wasted friend whined annoyingly, thrashing his shoulders around in an attempt to free himself from Kyle's grasp – which, incidentally, wasn't even that tight, but Kenny was clearly too intoxicated to notice that.

"What?" Kyle asked with an annoyed tone in his voice. Seriously, what the fuck did Kenny have to tell him that was so goddamn important? Knowing Kenny, it was either going to be something extremely stupid and pointless, or, the more common one, something about boobs.

Kenny looked up at him with his icy blue eyes, which were currently glazed over and slightly bloodshot from all the alcohol he'd been consuming over the course of the evening. His gaze was unfocused, and he had a stupid-looking grin on his face as he stared up at Kyle, who was growing more and more impatient by the second.

Finally, though, Kenny stretched his arm out, his skinny index finger pointing towards the window.

"Who's..." he started, pausing to let out a small hiccup before he continued, "Who's that _insanely hot_ chick out there, Kyle? She's like, super skinny and _sexy_!"

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows as he shot a quick glance out his window. He stared intently for all of three seconds, before finally smirking and looking back at Kenny, right in his drunken, glassy red eyes.

"Dude, that's a mailbox," he said bluntly.

A look of deep and utter confusion gradually adorned the blonde's face as his eyebrows knitted together. His jaw was now hanging open, for whatever reason, which only made him look even stupider. Something finally seemed to register in his mind as he let out a snort and took a step backwards, allowing Kyle's hands to fall off his shoulders, so that he was finally standing upright on his own two feet.

"Well, she's...she's fuckin' _hot!" _Kenny declared, raising his beer above his head. "I'm...I'm totally...I'm _totally_ gonna fuck her, dude. I totally am. You'll see."

Kyle put a hand over his own mouth, concealing the huge grin that had formed across his face. God, Kenny was such an idiot when he was drunk.

"Yeah, okay," Kyle mumbled as he carefully removed his hand from his mouth, although he was still unable to maintain a straight face as he reached out to pat Kenny's shoulder. "Have fun with that, dude."

"Oh, I _WILL!"_ Kenny declared triumphantly as he shook Kyle's hand away. He then marched off into Kyle's kitchen, most likely to get another beer.

Kyle simply shook his head to himself, a small grin still plastered on his lips. He turned in the opposite direction and casually made his way across his living room to where the two guests of honor were standing near the doorway, chatting with another certain blonde.

"Kyle!" Bebe called out in greeting as he walked up to them. She extended her arm out and wrapped it around Kyle's arm. "We were just talking about you!"

"Oh, really?" Kyle asked, arching an eyebrow as his gaze shifted from his brand new girlfriend to his long-time best friend.

The raven haired man smiled back at him slyly.

"Yeah, well," Stan started, his drink in one hand, the other resting on top of his fiancée's waist. "We were just discussing who I was planning on choosing as my best man."

"Oh, so you were _discussing_ it?" Kyle asked teasingly, already knowing where the conversation was going. "I'm kind of offended, Stan. I thought the choice would've been obvious for you."

Stan's grin widened, and Kyle quickly had a grin on his face that mirrored it, understanding.

"Thanks," Kyle said sincerely, not to mention seriously, for once. "I won't let you down."

"Yeah, I know," Stan said, not wanting to get too sentimental with him, although he still couldn't help himself from quietly and almost sheepishly adding, "You never do."

They smiled at each other with genuine warmth for a split-second, before the moment was abruptly ruined by a sudden loud, glass-shattering crash that came from Kyle's kitchen.

"OHHHHHHH SHIIIIIT!" came Kenny's obnoxious, slurred voice immediately following the crash.

Kyle sighed loudly, outwardly expressing his deep and utter frustration with his friend. Seriously, with the way Kenny was acting, it was surprising that Kyle hadn't just lost it altogether and decided to lock him up in the bathroom right then and there.

"I'd better go see what he broke," the exasperated host said as he unlinked his arm from Bebe's and left the group to go rush into his kitchen. Bebe watched him leave, waiting until he was no longer in sight before finally turning her attention back to the happily engaged couple.

"So..." she drawled, tapping her cherry red fingernails against her champagne glass. "Have you guys thought about a date yet?"

Stan and Wendy exchanged a glance. They seemed to read each other's minds with the look, and a mere second went by before Stan shrugged and turned his head back to Bebe.

"Not exactly," he admitted, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

"Oh," Bebe said in an almost melancholy tone. She was already fully aware that the whole long distance thing was clearly going to be an issue with them in the future, and they were obviously painfully aware of it, too. She awkwardly took a sip from her glass, desperately trying to come up with something else to say. "Well, don't worry. I'm sure you guys will figure it out soon enough."

Wendy smiled weakly, appreciating her best friend's reassuring words, when really, she was frowning on the inside.

* * *

"Hey, are you okay?"

Wendy jumped at the sudden sound of the familiar voice. She looked up from her drink, smiling sort of nervously as she saw Stan approaching her. He had a concerned, serious look on his face, one that instantly made Wendy's forced smile fade away from her lips.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a trace of apprehension in her voice.

She had disappeared from the party well over ten minutes ago, excusing herself by saying that she was going to the bathroom. Somehow, though, she had gotten sidetracked, as she was now simply standing in the upstairs hallway, the bathroom door still ajar. Her back was leaning against the wall, and she'd been absentmindedly staring out in front of her when Stan had suddenly showed up. She had clearly been too absorbed in her own thoughts to hear him walking up the staircase. They were simply staring at one another now, an uncomfortable feeling in the air between them. After a while, Stan finally spoke again.

"Well, it's just..." he started, momentarily shifting his gaze away from her. Fuck, since when had things gotten so awkward between them again? He eventually let out a long sigh, his blue eyes flickering back up to look at her. "You seem...I dunno...distant, or something."

Wendy simply blinked at him, not fully registering what he was saying, since her thoughts were still partially on something else.

"Distant?" she echoed stupidly, in her pathetic attempt to sound as though she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. However, in reality, she was very much aware what he meant by that.

Stan awkwardly cleared his throat.

"You know..." he tried again, pausing to search for a better way to put it. He finally settled on, "I just get the feeling that something's seriously bothering you. And I wish you'd just tell me what it was so I could try to help you out."

There was another brief, rather awkward pause, before a soft smile slowly found its way onto Wendy's lips. She walked over to Stan and gently placed her hand on top of his shoulder. He gave her a slightly confused look as she leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said, sliding her hand down his shoulder in a comforting manner. "You're so sweet. Trust me, though, everything's fine. I just have a lot on my mind right now, that's all."

Stan stared at her, his eyes slightly wide out of both confusion and concern.

"But–"

"Look," she started before he had the chance to protest, "I don't want you to start worrying about me, all right? I think I just need to take a walk or something to clear my mind."

Stan opened his mouth to say something again, but he promptly closed it. He knew there was no point in arguing with her, so instead, he offered her a warm smile.

"Okay," he said, placing a light kiss on her forehead. "Just be careful, all right?"

Their eyes locked again, a rare moment of hesitation passing between them, before they both leaned in and pressed their lips together in a quick kiss.

* * *

It was freezing cold that night. Of course, that wasn't exactly a surprise, given that it was still winter, and they were in South Park, after all. And if there was one thing South Park was known for – other than dealing with some kind of fucked up catastrophe, annoying celebrity, or strange new phenomenon on a weekly basis – it was the shitty weather that was generally always far under thirty degrees.

Wendy exhaled in a long huff, her breath colliding with the chilly air and coming out in a white, smoky cloud. She hugged her arms, rubbing them up and down in an attempt to warm herself up as she continued walking briskly along the cemented pavement. She wasn't planning on being in such a rush, since she was already near her intended destination, but it was so fucking cold outside that she could barely take it. She just wanted to get there as quickly as possible because, the sooner she got there, the sooner she could go back to Kyle's house and _not_ have to freeze her ass off anymore.

As she approached the tall, eerie-looking gate, she slowed down her pace a bit. She walked past the rusty metal gate, staring at each prong as she passed by it. She finally stopped altogether to look up at the carved writing on the archway.

_SOUTH PARK CEMETERY_

She shuddered involuntarily at the sight of it. Fuck, this place was creepy. The last time she was here was only a few months ago, when she came with her mother to put flowers on her father's grave for his birthday. It was hard to believe that he'd been gone for almost an entire year now...

She violently shivered again, finally tearing her eyes away from the stupid sign and allowing herself to walk past it. She walked through the open gate, stepping foot on the hard gravel of the graveyard sidewalk. Her quick steps seemed to become louder and louder with each one she took. She tried her best to ignore the sound of her own footsteps, though, instead choosing to look up at the night sky. At least it was a clear night. Not a single cloud in the sky. She could even see a few twinkling stars here and there. Her gaze soon wandered to look at the moon, and she gasped as soon as she laid eyes on it.

Full moon.

Wow. There it was. Glowing so brightly, like it had so much to be proud of. It was beautiful.

Her eyes eventually dropped to look forward again. She was still making her way down the path, at last letting go of her arms and allowing them to fall to her sides. Her pace quickened as she neared her father's tombstone. She had the exact spot memorized. Twenty-seventh row from the entrance, second one on the left. She turned and stepped onto the wet grass, taking only a few more steps before she finally stopped in front of his grave. She felt that familiar heart-sinking feeling inside her chest as she gaped at her father's name on his tombstone.

_MICHAEL TESTABURGER_

And then, she looked at the words engraved below it.

_Beloved son, brother, husband, and father._

She shivered for the third time that night. She'd never realized until now that the word 'father' was written last on the tombstone. For some reason, she liked the fact that it was separated like that. It made the word stand out, like it had more importance and meaning, in a way. She hesitantly reached out and touched the word, her index finger slowly running along the bold letters. _Father._ Her finger slid back up again, as though trying to memorize every curve and bump of the chiseled letters on the stone. She gradually moved her hand up, allowing it to rest on top of the smooth, cold marble.

"Hi Dad," she said almost inaudibly, her gloved hand gliding back and forth along the surface of his tombstone. "How are you?"

She paused, as though waiting for him to actually answer her. She tightly closed her eyes then, envisioning her father's warm, smiling face. Maybe if she focused really, _really_ hard, he would speak to her. If only for a moment. Even if it was only one word...just to hear his soothing voice again...

_Thump._

Wendy's eyes snapped open, her heart stopping inside her chest. What the fuck was _that_? It kind of sounded like–

_"AAAAHHHH!"_ she shrieked at the top of her lungs as two large hands shot out of nowhere and grabbed her tightly by the shoulders. She started flailing her arms mercilessly, trying her hardest to rip herself out of the strong grasp. "AHH–" One of the hands suddenly flew up to forcefully cover her mouth, stifling her loud screams as she continued violently thrashing around.

"Shut the _fuck_ up!"

She abruptly froze when she heard that deep voice, her heart freezing along with the rest of her body.

Oh.

_Fuck._

She immediately reached up with both hands and grabbed the one that was against her mouth, pulling it off with great force and gasping for air as she let go of it. Her body temperature seemed to shoot up in that moment, her blood now boiling with intense anger as she spun around to come face-to-face with none other than...

"What...the _fuck_...is _wrong_ with you!" she ground out, still breathless from the surprise encounter.

The one and only Eric Cartman grinned devilishly, his twisted brown eyes boring into hers.

"Nothing," he answered simply.

And then, before she could say anything else, he grabbed her again, this time lifting her off the ground and throwing her body onto his shoulder.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!" Wendy shouted, no longer caring in the least that they were still in the cemetery and were supposed to be quiet. "PUT ME DOWN!"

"Oh, I will," he said as he squeezed her more tightly.

"STOP SQUEEZING MY ASS!" she screamed desperately. "YOU SICK FUCKING BASTARD! CARTMAAAAAAN!"

His vicious smile only grew wider as he started walking out of the cemetery.

"Mmm, yeah, I love it when you scream my name, Wendy," he said in a husky voice, fully knowing that it would piss her off.

The fighting went on for the rest of the way, until he at last reached the place he was taking her to: his apartment.

* * *

**Author's Note:** To be honest, this story has sort of lost a bit of its priority for me, since I've kinda sorta been obsessing over an entirely different fandom lately...

Don't worry, though, that doesn't mean I've lost interest in this story altogether. I'll update again soon (although, by now you should know that I totally suck at updating quickly. XD It's just that other things always seem to be getting in the way...)

Only two chapters left, by the way. Next one is the big epic showdown between Stan and Cartman. I'm sure you're all looking forward to that. ;D

Anyway, enough of my ranting. You know what to do! *points to review button and smiles*


	9. The Point of No Return

**Author's Note: **Sorry for taking so ridiculously long to update. I've been busy with school and work and other stuff that you obviously don't care about. But now, here we are (finally!) We're..._ past the point of no return. The final threshold. What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?_ (XD I couldn't resist. It just fits too well.)

This chapter was very hard for me to write. That's all I'm gonna say. I hope you enjoy.**  
**

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Nine: The Point of No Return_

* * *

Stan gazed out of the window in Kyle's living room. Frost thickly covered the glass, making it that much harder to see past the darkness outside. It was a little after midnight now, yet there was still no sight of Wendy. The party had ended not too long ago, and the house had gotten a lot quieter as everyone else had gone home. Now, the only people left at Kyle's house besides Stan were Bebe and Kenny, the latter of whom was still wasted out of his mind.

"Yo guyssss," Kenny hissed in a giddy tone. He was sitting on Kyle's fancy leather couch, trying to focus his gaze as he looked around at the three other people in the room. Kyle and Bebe were busy cleaning up, paying absolutely no attention to him whatsoever, while Stan, on the other hand, finally tore his eyes away from the window to stare at Kenny expectantly. The blonde smiled widely and let out a snort before asking in that same giggly voice, "Is it cool if I take off my pants?"

"NO!" Kyle immediately shouted.

"Awww, why not?" Kenny whined. His hands were already on his belt at that point, clumsily trying to figure out how to undo the buckle. "I'm so much sexier with my pants off!"

Kyle let out a loud sigh of frustration and rolled his eyes as he let go of the large black garbage bag he'd been holding and walked over to Kenny, who was still struggling to take off his belt when Kyle grabbed him by his shirt collar with both hands and yanked him up off his couch.

"Aaaaaahhh!" Kenny screamed dramatically. "Where are you taking meeeeeeee!"

Kyle didn't say a word as he dragged Kenny out of his living room and made his way upstairs. Stan and Bebe could hear loud banging and crashing sounds echoing above them, though neither one of them seemed to be fazed by it. Bebe resumed cleaning, while Stan casually turned his head away to stare out the window once again. After about a minute or so, the pounding noises coming from upstairs suddenly stopped, and the sound of a door slamming shut was heard. A moment later, Kyle came sauntering down the staircase, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Where's Kenny?" Stan asked without looking at him.

Kyle silently walked over to his forgotten trash bag and picked it up.

"I locked him up in the bathroom."

* * *

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Cartman looked at Wendy, right into her bright, blazing, anger-filled brown eyes. She had a look of pure hatred in those eyes, a tiny gleam igniting in her pupils as she narrowed them at him in a way that said, "I am going to fucking _kill _you." She was thrashing around ferociously in a pathetic attempt to break out of the ropes that he'd tied her up with. It wasn't easy, to say the least, as she was literally kicking and punching and screaming the whole time he'd been tying her up. He managed to grab a hold of her skinny arms and force them together behind her back, before he moved on to tie her ankles together. That part had definitely been a lot harder for him to do, especially since she was wearing a pair of six-inch high heels. Those deathly pointy heels had definitely come _way_ too close to kicking him in the balls quite a few times, but he luckily managed to tie her up without having to endure any kind of physical pain like that.

And now, there she was, lying on the floor of his bedroom. She was currently screaming something at him, but her words were muffled by the thick line of silver duct tape that he'd used to cover her mouth with. He was now watching her from across the room, standing near the open doorway, his hand resting on top of the doorknob. A large, satisfied smirk gradually spread across his face as he watched her flail about, her hair shaking in all different directions. He watched as her black locks spilled across her chest, and it was at that moment that his eyes suddenly fell from her face to instead gape at her chest. He hadn't even realized until now that the angle she was in gave him a _very_ nice view of her cleavage. He'd been so damn busy tying her up that he hadn't even noticed just how fucking amazing her boobs looked in that tight-fitting, dark blue sweater she was wearing...

_'Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?'_ he thought as he blinked hard, attempting to clear his mind from the dirty thoughts that had suddenly formed in his head. He just couldn't help it, though. Even right now, when she was all tied up and looking like a crazy, psycho bitch, she _still_ looked unbelievably, ridiculously fucking hot. If she weren't making those annoying, high-pitched screams right now, he knew he'd definitely be turned on.

Shaking his head a little, he finally tore his eyes away from Wendy's chest to look at her face again. The evil smirk quickly found its way back to his lips as he watched her continuing to struggle.

"Just wait, Wendy," he said with an evil chuckle in his voice. He began pulling the doorknob towards him, watching in slight amusement as Wendy abruptly stopped moving and lifted her head off the ground, a confused look in her eyes now. Just as he was about to completely close the door, he paused for a moment and added in the most intimidating tone he could muster:

"It'll _all_ be over soon..."

* * *

Stan glanced at his watch, frowning when he read the time. 12:31 AM.

"All right. That's it," he said, breaking the silence in the room as both Kyle and Bebe turned to look at him with curious faces. He turned his head to look at them as well, although he settled his gaze on neither one of them in particular. The expression on his face soon hardened into a look of determination as he turned away from them and reached for the doorknob, grabbing it and opening it all in one abrupt motion.

"I'm gonna go look for her," he announced, walking right outside and promptly slamming the door shut behind him.

A few seconds of confused silence went by before Kyle and Bebe slowly turned to look at each other.

"Why doesn't he just call her?" Bebe asked.

Kyle stared at her for a moment, before shrugging nonchalantly and answering in an equally nonchalant tone, "Because he's Stan. He's not the smartest kid around."

Bebe just smiled, absentmindedly adjusting a picture frame that was sitting on Kyle's coffee table. When she was done, she began casually walking towards him. Kyle couldn't help but notice that, as if out of nowhere, there was a certain mischievous glimmer in her sapphire eyes now, one that immediately caught his attention.

"You know," Bebe said, her voice low and seductive, practically a _purr_, as she stopped a mere several inches in front of him. "We're all alone now."

Kyle's eyes practically bulged out of his head, his heartbeat quickening suddenly as Bebe reached up with both hands and slowly began winding her arms around his neck. Just as he was about to point out that they weren't actually alone, and that Kenny was, in fact, still upstairs locked inside his bathroom, she pulled him in towards her, smashing her lips against his in a deep kiss.

And just like that, any concerns about his idiotic drunk friend went right out the window as Kyle began eagerly kissing her back, allowing his own arms to slide comfortably around her waist.

Oh well. It wasn't like it even mattered that Kenny was still upstairs. He was probably already passed out cold by now, anyway.

* * *

Stan walked quickly along the snow-covered sidewalk, his hands shoved inside his coat pockets. Fuck, it was cold. He could see his breath coming out in front of him with each small exhale he made. It was moments like this that he wished his red poofball hat still fit him. It was just so fucking cold, and that hat had always kept his ears nice and warm...

...but, whatever, that wasn't exactly important at a time like this. Right now, all he cared about was finding Wendy and bringing her home. He figured it wouldn't be _too_ hard to find her. After all, South Park was a pretty small town, so it wasn't like there were many places she could go. In fact, there was only one place he could think she'd bother going around here. He knew her well enough, perhaps even a little _too_ well, and he knew that the only place she'd want to go to at such a late hour like this would be the South Park Cemetery to visit her dad.

As he walked past the tall metal gate that guarded the cemetery, he began walking a bit faster, pulling his hands out of his pockets as he finally turned and walked into the empty cemetery. Wendy had to be in there. She just _had_ to be...

"Wendy?" Stan called out, his voice echoing through the quiet nighttime air. He could feel the cold wind blowing against his face as he walked along the long and narrow path, absentmindedly looking around at the hundreds upon hundreds of tombstones that were all around him.

"Wendy!" he called again, a bit louder this time, but he still heard no response. Fuck, where the hell _was_ she? Was she even here anymore? For all he knew, she could've already left and been on her way back to Kyle's house by now.

He made his way farther down the path, nearing the final few tombstones in the cemetery. He continued looking around, still seeing absolutely no one else in sight. Goddammit.

With a frustrated sigh, he turned around and started heading back towards the entrance of the cemetery. He honestly had no idea where he was going to go to try to find Wendy next. All he knew was that he wanted to get the fuck out of this place as quickly as possible. He stuffed his hands back into his pockets, cursing under his breath as he got closer to the gate. For a while, he heard nothing but the sound of his own quick footsteps, along with the loud, high-pitched chirping of crickets.

Out of nowhere, though, he heard a completely different sound. It sounded like a _thump,_ and it caught him so off guard that he abruptly stopped dead in his tracks the moment he heard it. He stealthily looked over his shoulder to see if there was someone behind him, but there was nobody there. He was completely alone, much to his new found relief.

At least, as far as he knew.

Because then, just as he was about to continue walking, he felt an overwhelmingly heavy, crushing weight collide against his head.

And everything went black.

* * *

_'Perfect.'_

Cartman stared down at the unconscious raven haired man, his lips curving upward in a wide, devious smirk.

This was all going so well. So awesomely, amazingly, swimmingly well. Everything he'd done up until this point – kidnapping and tying up Wendy, and then doing the same with Stan – had been executed to near perfection. The fact that he was able to pull this whole thing off only further proved just how fucking awesome he was at this kind of stuff.

Of course, he was awesome in general, but that was besides the point.

He was especially fucking awesome at getting what he wanted. He'd _always_ been good at that, ever since he was a little kid, and that was because, despite the fact that it took a_ lot_ of effort, he'd always been willing to do the work. Whether it was by manipulating people, or blackmailing them into doing stuff for him as a result of him finding out their weakness or, better yet, an embarrassing secret, or even doing more extreme stuff like stealing and shit like that, he would do it. He'd even go so far as to fucking _kill_ someone if it meant that he'd get what he wanted in the end. And this time was definitely no exception.

This time, he wanted Wendy.

And, this time, the only person standing in his way was Stan.

So, naturally, Cartman had to get rid of him, which was why he had knocked Stan out cold, dragged his limp body from the cemetery all the way back to his apartment, and tied him up to the railing of his staircase.

And now, there was just one last thing he had to do.

His smirk widened as he reached into the bottom side pocket of his long black coat and carefully curled his fingers around a distinct object that he'd been keeping inside of it for a while. He clutched the object as though it were a precious, million-dollar gem. He absentmindedly began stroking the smooth surface of it with his thumb, loving the slick, cold feeling as it gently rubbed against the pad of his thumb.

As he did that, he watched Stan intently, studying his face in particular. He narrowed his eyes as he looked over Stan's features, slowly beginning to notice random shit that he'd never actually noticed before, like how Stan's face was perfectly smooth, unlike his, which was all prickly from his stubbly facial hair, and how his black hair was shorter and much neater looking than his own crazy, tangled up mess of brown hair that he was too lazy to cut, and how his lips were a bit fuller than his own, and–

"Nnnhh."

Cartman's eyes widened the second he heard Stan make that noise. He instinctively squeezed the object in his hand more tightly, but he still kept it buried deeply inside his pocket, refusing to expose it anytime soon. He watched as Stan's eyelids twitched until, slowly and tiredly, they began to blink open. Cartman could feel his heartbeat starting to speed up from a sudden rush of nerves, but he maintained his stance, quickly hardening the startled look on his face into a glare.

"C-...Cartman?"

Stan's voice came out weak and quiet, just above a whisper. His eyes were widened and his lips were parted, giving him a scared shitless, puppy dog kind of look.

Pathetic.

"Hello, Stan," Cartman said as calmly as he possibly could, which wasn't exactly easy, since his goddamn heart was practically racing a mile a fucking minute.

_'Just calm the fuck down, Eric. _You're_ the one with all the power here, not him. You're the one holding the-'  
_

Stan blinked at him, before sharply tilting his head up to see that his wrists were hanging above his head, tied up to the staircase railing. He gave one hard tug with one arm, letting out a soft groan, before exhaling and looking right at Cartman again.

"Dude...what the _fuck_ is going on here?" he demanded, his voice sounding far less scared and confused than it sounded just a second ago. He pretty much just sounded pissed now. Not that that was really a surprise or anything. "Where am I? Why are you here? And why the _fuck_ am I tied up?"

Cartman didn't bother to answer any of his questions, though. He simply continued staring at Stan, his face in a hard scowl, his brown eyes narrowed and thick eyebrows lowered. For a moment, neither one of them moved, both staring at one another, Cartman trying his best to look perfectly calm, and at the same time intimidating, while Stan seemed to be growing more and more annoyed by the second. He furrowed his eyebrows together before finally breaking the silence again.

"Dude, Cartman, come on," Stan said, sounding just plain impatient now. Such a goddamn annoying pussy. "I haven't seen you in forever, and now I'm sitting here all tied up, and you're fucking staring at me like...like you're..." He trailed off, and it was then that Cartman decided he might as well pick it up from there.

He cleared his throat. Here goes nothing.

"Like I'm what, Stan?" Cartman finally asked, trying his best to come off as innocent and curious. "Like I'm..." He shifted his feet a little bit, pondering over whether or not he should start to advance towards him or stay where he was, but his feet seemed to suddenly gain a mind of their own as he found himself taking a single step closer to Stan.

"...angry?"

He watched in slight amusement, and with a slight boost to his ego, as Stan's mouth fell open in obvious fear, his wide blue eyes staring up at Cartman helplessly.

"Like I'm..."

He took another step closer to Stan.

"...hurt?"

Then, he took one final step, before lowering his head to Stan's level.

"Like I'm..."

His fingers clenched around the object hidden in his pocket as he leaned in closer to Stan.

_"...jealous?"_

Stan visibly tensed up, clearly trying to move away from Cartman, but there was no point. He was completely trapped.

"Dude...what the _hell_ are you talking about?" he asked in utter confusion and slight frustration. "Seriously, what the fuck is going on here?"

Cartman let out a chuckle, a very soft one at first, but as he slowly moved his head away from Stan to stand straight again, the chuckle grew louder. Not long after that, Cartman was laughing maniacally, his entire body shaking, the hand confined in his pocket loosening around the object only slightly. After a while, as his laughter began to die down, he took a deep breath and exhaled it, locking eyes with Stan again, who now had an eyebrow raised and his mouth closed.

"I'm sure you're wondering where Wendy is right now, aren't you?"

Stan's mouth immediately fell open again.

"Wendy?" he echoed with sudden interest in his tone. "How do you...I mean...how _would_ you..." He muttered a bunch of random shit like that, seemingly at a loss for words, when finally, he settled on simply asking, "Where is she?"

Cartman grinned. There was no way in hell he was about to give in that fucking easily. He wasn't a pussy, unlike Stan.

"I'm sure you'd _love_ to know that, wouldn't you?" he asked mockingly. He paused then, before adding in a purposely suggestive tone, "I'm sure you'd love to know a lot of things."

Stan blinked.

"Like...what?" he asked, hesitantly, but at the same time curiously.

Cartman's grin widened. Yes. He'd waited a_ looooong _fucking time for this moment, and now, it was finally here.

Awesome.

"Liiiiiike..." Cartman drawled in that same mocking tone. He was going to have fun with this. He really was. "...the fact that I ran into Kyle a few months ago? You know, Kyle, your Super Best Faggy Fucking Jew Friend? Hmm? Or the fact that, the two of us started talking, and he just so happened to tell me about Wendy moving in with Bebe in some apartment outside of Denver? Or the fact that, he _also_ just so happened to tell me that they were both trying to get into acting, and that the second he told me that, my super awesome clever brain began to come up with this fucking amazing, well-thought-out plan to..."

Cartman paused there, taking a moment to relish the look on Stan's face, the surprised and astounded, yet deeply confused look, knowing that he was fully in control here, knowing that Stan was both curious yet nervous to hear what he was about to say next.

A wicked smirk danced across Cartman's lips, and he waited a few more seconds, just to see Stan squirm and suffer a _little_ bit longer, before he at last said it, in a mockingly innocent voice:

"...make Wendy mine?"

Stan's face fell.

_"What?"_ he asked in utter disbelief, his voice practically cracking. "Cartman, what...what are you _saying?"_

And that was when Cartman tightened his grip around the object once again, preparing himself to take it out very soon.

"I'm saying that I got your best friend _Kahl_ to basically betray you by making him my accomplice in the greatest fucking scheme I'd _ever_ come up with," he explained. "I'm saying that I went to that stupid theater up in Denver and threatened that faggy old director to give Wendy the lead role in that stupid ballet, and when he finally agreed, I blackmailed Wendy into becoming my little love slave in exchange for the part."

Yeah. Love slave.

"I'm saying that," he went on, toying with the object in his pocket, "my entire plan was going perfectly until _you_ showed up and tried to fucking win Wendy back with your boyish charm or whatever the fuck it is you do with your pussy hippie self. And when I found out about it, I got really pissed off, and I knew that I'd have to do something fucking _drastic_ before anything like that happened."

At this point, he was no longer looking at Stan, instead focusing his gaze on the floor, on the walls, basically anywhere _but_ him, because he knew that if he looked at him, he'd fucking lose it.

"So that was why," he continued, barely taking a breath, "a couple weeks ago, I took her back here, to my shitty apartment, and I fucked her little brains out. But that was when my whole plan started to backfire on me, because after that, she would barely fucking talk to me, and that was when I found out that she got fucking _engaged_...to _you._ And that was when I knew I had to do something even _more_ drastic if I was ever going to make that bitch mine permanently. So that was when I decided to...play a little prank, I guess you could say, by cutting off that huge motherfucking chandelier..."

His free hand tightened into a fist. He felt a sudden pang in his chest, like someone had just stabbed him in the fucking heart, and he was fully aware that it was the sick feeling of anger and jealousy rushing throughout his body in a heated frenzy all over again.

"...but that _still_ wasn't enough, and that's when I realized there was only one thing left for me to do."

Finally, he began to pull the object out of his coat pocket, slowly exposing a thick, long black handle that led to an even longer, but thinner, glistening blade. His eyes darkened as he stared at the shiny knife, the sick smirk still playing across his lips. He couldn't help but think to himself how seriously _ingenious_ a goddamn knife was. Seriously, a device that could cut up steaks _and_ kill people? Such a useful and clever weapon.

He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the knife to at last settle his gaze back on Stan, who at that point looked like he was about to have a fucking heart attack.

Good.

Without thinking twice, Cartman lunged forward, the knife firmly clenched in his hand, stopping a mere inch away from Stan's neck. He held himself in place there, enjoying the way Stan immediately flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable end. He brought his free hand up to wrap around the wooden railing of the staircase as he moved the other one forward ever so slightly. He held the sharp blade up to Stan's quivering neck, ready to press it into his skin.

"Goodbye, Stan."

And he was about to move the knife forward, when-

"CARTMAN!"

_'Oh._ _Balls.'_

Both men lifted their heads to see Wendy rushing down the staircase, looking completely disheveled.

"Wendy!" Stan screamed in both shock and relief.

Cartman gritted his teeth, still holding the knife in place.

"How the _fuck_ did you get untied, bitch!" he demanded as she stopped right next to him, letting out a few short, harsh pants in an attempt to catch her breath. Her hair was a mess, and her lips were slightly red and swollen from the duct tape that he'd put across her mouth.

"Your fucking _cat_ helped me out by chewing off the strings on my wrists, _dick._"

Cartman's fierce facial expression momentarily softened as he looked up to see his small black cat making its way down the staircase by tentatively jumping off each stair one at a time. The cat stopped when it saw Cartman, giving him an adorable, innocent look with its round, bright green eyes. Cartman was unaffected by it, though, as the look on his face immediately hardened again.

"Dammit, Mr. Fluffy Kitty!" he scorned at the small animal. "You betrayed me!"

The kitten let out a barely audible meow, before turning away from him and slowly making its way back up the staircase. Cartman let out a loud groan of frustration, simultaneously rolling his eyes. The next thing he knew, he felt a small but strong hand suddenly grab onto his wrist, yanking his arm in its direction. He glared at Wendy.

"Let go of me, bitch!" he shouted as he tried to shake off her grasp, but doing that only caused her other hand to latch onto his arm. She started reaching for the knife, trying to pry it out of his hand, but he quickly let go of the railing and grabbed her by the wrist. "I'm not gonna let this pussy faggot stand in the way of me and you being together!"

Wendy stopped moving then, the pissed off look on her face instantly melting into one of...

...of...

...fear?

"What?" she asked, her voice suddenly meek, making her sound like she was a fucking mouse or something. "You want us to..._be together?_"

Cartman's angry look instantly melted away, too.

Shit.

He couldn't let his guard down now. He was so close.

"Why do you sound so fucking _surprised_, whore?" he asked, intending for it to sound like a ridiculing question, but instead it came out in a more curious, almost _shocked_ tone.

He felt Wendy's tight grip loosen on his sleeve a bit, until she finally let go of him altogether.

"I...I don't know...I thought you..."

She paused, as though searching for the right words, before she suddenly let out a quick sigh.

"I thought you were doing all of this stuff because you just wanted to fuck me," she rushed out.

Cartman's eyebrows shot up, his mouth simultaneously falling open. He didn't say anything, though, and instead, he just stood there, frozen, staring at Wendy with this newly stunned look on his face. She was staring back at him with slightly widened eyes that were now rapidly flickering back and forth, as though she were studying him frantically, while at the same time trying to make something click in her mind.

It was at that point that Cartman suddenly realized that his heart was pounding really hard against his chest, and that his body was tense and unable to move. He could feel himself growing more and more fearful.

He knew what she was going to say before she even said it, and yet, when she _did_ finally open her mouth to speak again, he felt his heart stop for a moment.

"Cartman..." she started, her voice in a deathly serious tone, dropping to a mere whisper as she asked:

"Do you _love_ me?"

His world came crashing down the moment those words left her lips. All the blood drained from his face, while his eyes practically popped out of his head, his heart and stomach flipping in unison.

_'Fuck.'  
_

He blinked, closing his mouth, only to have it fall open again. She was staring at him expectantly, the previously scared look on her face now completely gone.

_'Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck__!'_

Millions of thoughts rushed through his mind then, all of them pulling him in different directions:

_'Lie to her.'_

_'Laugh in her face.'_

_'Tell her she's a fucking crazy psycho bitch to think something like that.'_

_'Tell her you _did_ only do all that stuff because you wanted to fuck her.'_

_'Tell her that...'_

Cartman's lips parted again, and he momentarily looked down at the ground, before he finally looked back up at her as he asked, in a low, unintentionally shy voice:

"Do _you_ love _me_?"

Wendy's mouth fell open now, her eyes bulging.

"I-" she started, but she abruptly stopped and diverted her gaze from him to look down at Stan. Cartman looked down at him as well, immediately noticing that Stan's gaze was solely locked onto Wendy. He lowered his eyebrows, feeling that familiar rush of anger shoot throughout his entire body yet again. God, if it hadn't been for his goddamn cat chewing up those stupid strings on Wendy's wrist, Stan would've already been fucking _dead_ by now.

"I..." he suddenly heard Wendy speak up again, and he looked at her, his strong anger suddenly being replaced with impatience.

_'Come ooooon. Just tell me already, goddammit. You either do or you don't. It's not that fucking hard!'_

"I...well, I mean, I don't know if I...you know..._love_...I mean..." she babbled incoherently, her eyes never clearly focusing on him as they darted back and forth between Stan and himself.

Cartman could feel his nerves building up more and more by the second, his stomach starting to tighten uncomfortably, his heart still pounding against his chest as though it were about to fucking burst out of him.

Finally, Wendy exhaled in a loud, frustrated sigh.

_'Shit. Here it comes.'_

He nearly shut his eyes and recoiled_, _fearing what she was about to say, when the next thing he knew, he felt her hands roughly cup his cheeks. Without any warning, she crushed her lips to his. He stiffened the moment their lips touched, his eyes widening in complete and utter shock. The knife fell from his hand and landed on the floor with a loud _clank._ He felt his heartbeat speed up even more, his heart nearly exploding. His senses were so overwhelmed as tingling warmth quickly spread throughout his entire body, and his thoughts were all over the place that, for a moment, he found himself unable to move at all.

But, once the initial shock wore off, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to take full advantage of this passionate moment. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her small waist, pulling her body closer to him. The kiss quickly deepened as he felt her lips part open, her sweet taste flooding through him and sending him into a world of near ecstasy. He tried to fight himself from moaning, still half conscious of the fact that Stan was sitting right there watching them, but his selfish desires got the best of him as they always did. He squeezed her more tightly against him and the moan eventually escaped his lips despite all his efforts to stop it.

Fuck, did she have any idea at all how much of an effect she had over him? Did she know just how fucking _amazing_ she made him feel? Her lips, her body, her hair and eyes, her sweet smell and taste, her bitchy ways, her headstrong personality, her intelligence, her smile, her laugh...

...he fucking loved _all of it__._

He could feel her hands slowly snaking around his neck, and it wasn't until after they were fully clasped around the back of his neck that he felt the blissful moment suddenly shatter into an ugly and cruel form of painful reality.

It was because, as her warm hands pressed against his skin, he could feel something else digging against the back of his neck, something smooth and cold, made of metal, wrapped snugly around her left ring finger...

_'Her fucking engagement ring.'_

And that was when he felt his heart clench, like someone had just grabbed it right through his chest and started squeezing it as hard as they possibly fucking could. It wasn't long until everything started coming together in his mind.

This wasn't an "I love you, I want to be with you" kiss. No. This was an urgent kiss. An act of desperation and fear.

She didn't love _him._ She wasn't doing this because she was in love with _him._ She was doing it because she was fucking scared out of her mind, and she knew that this was the only way she'd be able to protect her precious little Stan.

_'God. Dammit.'_

Abruptly, and almost violently, he ripped his lips away from Wendy's, his eyes still squeezed shut, a low groan escaping his throat. He didn't open his eyes until he turned his back to her, not wanting to look her in the eyes. Hastily, he searched the floor for his forgotten knife, and when he finally found it, he picked it up and turned to Stan. His eyes were dark, a vicious scowl on his face, as he leaned down and grabbed one of Stan's arms, bringing the knife up to the ropes and vigorously slashing them loose. He then dropped the knife and took a step backwards, grinding his teeth together.

"Leave."

It wasn't an order. It was a fucking _threat._ And Stan seemed to understand that completely as he hurriedly scrambled to his feet, reaching out for Wendy's hand and loosely grabbing it, before he turned and started running like hell with Wendy stumbling behind him.

He watched them go, neither one of them looking back.

As soon as they were no longer in sight, he fell to his knees, slamming his fists against the floor as he let out a loud growl.

And tears unleashed from his eyes.


	10. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** I have to admit, I'm not really so into South Park anymore. I never thought I'd say that, but it's true. Don't get me wrong, I still watch the new episodes every Wednesday night (I freaking LOVED the New Jersey one. I thought it was absolutely hilarious. And for the record, I totally love _Jersey Shore._ I find it entertaining. Don't judge me! XD), but I'm definitely nowhere near as obsessed with this show as I used to be. I'll always love it, but yeah.

Anyway, here you go: the final chapter. Back to Cartman's POV. Takes place about a year later. Enjoy.

* * *

_Because I Love You_

_Chapter Ten: Epilogue_

* * *

I don't know why I'm here right now. I really, really fucking don't. I'm seriously, I've got like, a _million_ other things I could be doing right now. Like...

...

Like, uh...

...

...taking care of my cat...

...or, uh...

...

...

...

...fuck.

All right, so maybe I _don't_ have anything better to do right now. I mean, the only thing I've really got going for me as of right now is my job. Which isn't saying much. Like, at all. Sure, I got promoted to manager, and I'm making a much more decent salary than what I used to make – not to mention, I get to boss people around now. I get to yell at the waiters when they fuck something up...which is pretty sweet, I have to admit – but, besides that, nothing in my life has really changed.

I still live in that small, crappy apartment in the small, crappy town of South Park.

I still don't talk to anyone I went to school with. Except for Kyle, that is, and sometimes Kenny.

Everything's the same. The exact fucking same.

So I guess, maybe, that alone _does_ explain why I'm here right now, why I'm standing outside of this ridiculously huge, fancy ass building, listening to the annoyingly loud music that's booming inside of it, with my hands jammed inside my coat pockets as I pace back and forth, waiting.

Waiting for _you know who._

I'm just grateful that it's one of those rare, not too hot or too cold nights. I don't even really need to be wearing a coat right now. After all, it's mid-March, right around the beginning of Spring, and there's a warm breeze that actually feels kinda nice as it blows against my face.

I finally stop pacing, being sure to stand completely still as I take a moment to breathe in deeply, allowing the fresh air to fill my lungs. As I slowly breathe out, I can feel a small smirk shaping across my mouth as a somewhat random thought suddenly crosses my mind.

I bet she planned out this day to perfection.

She's a goddamn freak like that. There's absolutely no doubt in my mind that she planned out this whole fucking wedding so goddamn accordingly, down to every minuscule and unimportant detail that only a crazy, high-maintenance chick like _her_ would make a fuss about. I can totally fucking picture her making all of these arrangements, picking out flowers and centerpieces and basically all of that other unnecessary shit that only girls care about. Psychotic girls. Girls like _her._

But as soon as she enters my mind again, my smirk widens, and I let out a snort of hopeless laughter.

Because, really, who the fuck am I kidding?

Only myself, that's who.

Here I am, standing outside this building where Stan and Wendy's fucking _wedding reception_ is currently going on. Not the ceremony, but the actual _reception._ That alone shows just how truly pathetic I am, how stupid it was for me to even bother showing up here right now...

I mean, she's already fucking _married,_ for Christ's sake.

So, I'm sure the question you're just dying to fucking ask me right now is: if I'm fully aware of all of this, then _why_ the _fuck_ am I being such an idiot by wasting my time to get all dressed up, drive nearly four fucking hours to get here, only to stand around waiting for almost a fucking hour now...all for this chick who totally and completely rejected me last year?

...

Well, like I've already said, nothing's changed. So, you know, I really don't think I need to spell it out for you, do I? Because I'd honestly rather not. If I _do_ tell you, it'll only make me seem like _more_ of a fucking loser. And anyway, I'm sure you're not _that_ stupid that you can't just figure it out on your own. Right? I mean, the last thing I wanna do here is underestimate your amazing intelligence.

Yeah.

I pull my hand out of my pocket to take a glance at my watch. Almost midnight. I let out a groan and angrily shove my hand back into my pocket. Fuck, this is so annoying. I really hate waiting. Can't fucking stand it. How much longer am I gonna have to wait around? Seriously, this is starting to piss me off.

Not to mention, I'm getting kinda hungry...

With a long sigh, I turn my back to the building and begin walking away from it.

Fuck this already. It was stupid for me to come. I'm just gonna head back home to South Park, where I can cuddle with Mr. Fluffy Kitty on my crappy little futon couch. I'll probably just grab something to eat while I'm driving home...maybe a burger or something...ooh, or maybe tacos...

...hmm...or maybe even...

"Cartman?"

I freeze. Literally stop mid-fucking step, my heart practically stopping along with the rest of my body.

God, _fuck my fucking life._ Seriously.

As casually as I possibly fucking can, I turn around, trying my absolute hardest to stay calm, cool, and collected.

But, of course, that doesn't work out. Not at all. Because, the second I'm turned completely around, and I lay eyes on _her,_ I feel my mouth go fucking dry. My heart swells inside my chest, and it starts beating super fast. Like, faster than I've ever felt it beat in a long, _long_ time.

Well, maybe not _that_ long...

For a moment – which feels a lot more like a goddamn eternity – I just fucking stand there without saying anything, just gawking at her like some kind of retarded, wide-eyed fish.

She looks...absolutely, positively, amazingly fucking...

_...beautiful._

Her wedding dress is long and flowing and silky-looking, and it's hugging her curves in just the right spots, and it's got these frills and lace at the top, with some sparkles that trail towards the bottom. And her hair is tumbling down her shoulders in these long, loose curls. Some of it is pinned back, showing off more of her face, but there are still a few loose strands hanging on either side of her face. They frame her features just right. And she's wearing a shit ton of makeup, and her eyes are shining, and her smile is perfectly white, and...

God, she's fucking _glowing_ right now.

I can hear her shoes click-clacking against the cement beneath her feet as she walks up to me, and it's when she finally stops in front of me that I somehow, magically, find my voice.

"Hi," I say, barely able to recognize my own fucking voice.

_'Keep it cool, Eric,'_ I quickly remind myself._ 'This may be your last chanc__e.'_

"Hi," she says back, her voice sounding just as meek and unsure as mine.

We stare at each other for a while – which, again, feels more like forever. I wonder if it feels that long to her...

Finally, though, I open my mouth to say something, just as she goes and opens her mouth at the same time. Immediately, I close mine, and she does the same.

Fuck.

"Sorry," I mutter, feeling my cheeks getting warmer. "You go first."

"I just..." she starts to say, only to trail off.

I don't say anything, and instead decide to wait patiently for her to start again. Her eyes trail away from mine for a moment, and she begins chewing on her lower lip. She's uncomfortable. _Of course_ she's fucking uncomfortable. I am, too, but...I highly doubt it's for the same reason she is.

She eventually stops biting her lip and lets out a small sigh, at last looking me in the eyes again.

"It's good to see you," she says, and, surprisingly, it doesn't come out forced and awkward. She actually sounds...sincere. Maybe even a little nervous.

And, although I'm admittedly caught off guard by her statement, I'm quick to respond to it.

"It's good to see you, too," I say with a bit more confidence in my tone.

After that, we fall into yet another awkward silence, both of us diverting our gazes, struggling to look fucking _anywhere_ but at each other. I can feel my face heating up more and more with each passing second, and it doesn't feel good at all. In a sudden bold decision, I clear my throat and look at her again, and she looks at me, too.

"You look amazing, Wendy," I blurt out, at this point no longer giving a fuck anymore. My face suddenly feels like it's on fire, but I ignore it as I continue, "And I just...I think _you're_ amazing. And I just wanna say that I'm sorry for all those times I called you a bitch or a whore or any other fucking insult I've ever used. And I'm also sorry for treating you so badly, and for all the crazy shit that happened last year. And I'm especially sorry if I ever made you feel hurt or scared or angry or...whatever. And I'm just...I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you all of this stuff sooner." I've long since dropped my gaze from her to instead fix my eyes to the ground, since I don't dare look her in the eyes right now. "I'm just _not good_ at this kind of stuff, you know...expressing my feelings and shit. But I just...I've always wanted to tell you that I..."

I pause for a second here, before lifting my eyes and looking right into hers.

"I love you."

My heart practically jumps out of my chest the moment I finish saying those words. Now, I'm just staring right at her, my heart racing like I'd just finished running a marathon in the fucking Olympics, and she's staring back at me, her gorgeous eyes wide and her cheeks slightly flushed.

And then, she takes me completely by fucking surprise as she slowly brings her arms up and wraps them around my neck. I feel like I'm about to pass out as she presses her warm body against mine. I can smell her sweet, flowery perfume, and it's making my head spin, and I feel like I'm fucking dreaming or something.

I exhale a breath that I didn't even realize I was holding in, and slowly, I wrap my own arms around her back. I hug her close to me, inhaling her sweet scent as I close my eyes. Her chest is so closely pressed to mine that I can feel _her_ heart beating, and it's definitely beating no where near as fast as mine, and I'm sure _she_ doesn't feel like she's about to faint...

...but that's all right.

"Thank you," she whispers against my ear, and again I feel my heart jump.

Because I know she's not thanking me for what I just said.

She's thanking me for what I did for her. For letting Stan go, for letting her go, for giving _them_ their chance to get married and spend the rest of their lives together, the way she always wanted...

...and I can't help but smile, just a little bit.

Because I know that her happiness is partly because of me.

And, in this moment, that's all I can really ask for.

* * *

_"If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours. If they don't, they never were." _

* * *

The End

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**Author's Note:** :(

I realize that the quote I put in at the end there is extremely cliché, but...I dunno, I just felt like it fit so perfectly with this story that I just _had_ to use it.

Thank you so much to each and every one of you for reading and reviewing my story! ^_^ I love you all!


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